I don’t know why that scares me. But it does. Scarier still, Ilovehim. I’ve loved him for farlonger than I’d ever dare to admit.
Ryc holds my stare, studying me with growing concern.
“Have I spoken too soon?” His soft question masks his regret poorly.
I hesitate. “No,” I say with a quick shake of my head. “There are no true words to expresslovein the hells.” I slide toward the edge of my seat, closer to him, as I frame his face between my hands. “Instead, we sayav uval zil d’rae’nei cris.”
You are the keeper of my darkened heart.
His eyes widen.
He remembers.
I’ve said the words once before and it’s a moment I’ll never forget.
“Are you telling me you love me, little death?” he asks, his eyes searching mine.
I huff a small laugh and nod. “Though, I suppose it would be more accurate to say I said it first.”
He leans close, his hands finding my waist. “I like when you’re first.”
His eyes darken seconds before his lips crash against mine, urging mine to part, and I listen, meeting his darkened fervor with my own. Together our tongues dance in a slow exploration of taste and touch. Nothing hurried, nothing desperate. Even so, screaming desire races through my veins, setting my blood on fire.
His bewildered laughter breaks our kiss, but he wraps a hand around the back of my neck, bringing me back to him, back to his lips. Books thunder to the floor, driven there by his sweeping arm. With a swift swing, I’m lifted and set upon the table, his lips never leaving mine.
The searing heat of his hands glide over my hips, pulling a groan from my throat and his fingers tighten, digging into me. With a sudden and vehementyank, I’m pulled to the edge of the table, and the silk of my dress tears—my legs forced apart by his hips.
Hellfire.
I’m going to burst into sheer hellfire under his touch.
The library is going tobe rendered to ash.
Clinging to him, I arch into his chest, closing the space between us. Ineedhim against me. At every possible point. Even then, I’ll still want more. More of his lips upon me. More of his touch. More of his attention.
More of his love.
My hands fly to his chest, fingers fumbling with the fabric of his shirt, tugging it loose from his pants. Again, his laughter breaks our kiss, denying me the feast of his lips. His eyes flick to the door before returning. With a glance over my shoulder, I note Cyran has vanished and the door lies closed.
I give him a wicked grin. “Didn’t want a spectator? Or would heresignover that too?”
He bursts into laughter and playfully pinches at my breast. I yelp in surprise, slapping his hand away as I laugh.
“Find someone other than Cyran,” Ryc counters, burying a hand in my hair, cradling the back of my head. “And we’ll talk about spectators.”
His lips are on mine before dark, shocked delight can take hold, shrinking my entire worldto him. My legs lock around his waist as he lifts me from the table. Magic ripples over my skin and with a flash of bright light, the cool night air greets my skin and I draw back, peering past him.
We’re no longer in the library.
Setting me upon my feet, he pivots to stand beside me, taking my hand in his.
“It’s not the North Docks,” he says as I dare to step forward, venturing closer to the stone banister. “But sunrise here is one few get to see.”
I huff a small laugh, his earlier reminder of the North Docks intentional. I wanted to catch sunrise that morning but was hindered by the weather.
From here, thewholeof Ollora lies below.
We’re stories above.
