He squeezed her hands in his large one. “I won’t.” His other palm still rested against the side of her face. His thumb traced the curve of her cheek. “Trust me.”
“I do,” she whispered. Saints, hadn’t she proved that already?
Carver’s expression softened. His thumb coasted across her skin again, a whispering caress. The fine hairs on her body lifted. The sudden charge in the air was felt by both of them.
Amryn’s heart beat faster when his eyes dipped to her mouth. Anticipation winged through her—his or her own, she wasn’t certain. His large palm shifted to hold the back of her neck as he rose up just enough to press his lips to hers.
The kiss was soft, slow, and infinitely gentle. Filled with promise and assurance.
It was exactly what she needed.
Tension melted from her body as his mouth moved over hers. She held his face in her hands, the bristled scrape of his stubble against her palms a soft rasp. The sensation grounded her. After being flooded with fear, it was a welcome comfort. She wasn’t alone. Whatever came, she didn’t have to face it on her own, because Carver was with her.
The fingers at her nape tightened as Carver deepened the kiss, his other hand now at her waist. The spicy scent of his soap teased her senses, further wrapping her in this moment—inhim. This incredible man who was somehow her husband. A warrior with scars on his body, but a pure heart. A general with a dark reputation, but who was capable of such gentleness and loyalty it staggered her.
She could have easily been lost in the kiss, but Carver had a better hold on his emotions. She felt that hold flex, and though there was a pulse of reluctance, he pulled away.
Their breaths were thin and fast, and when he set his forehead to hers, his voice was a little rough. “There are other things we need to talk about.”
She wanted to deny that, but she couldn’t. Exhaling a bit shakily, she nodded.
He drew back, flashing her a small smile that threatened to stop her racing heart. He pressed a final, promise-filled kiss to her lips, then he stood with a soldier’s fluid grace. Even though his hands fell away from her, the warmth of his touch lingered as he retook his seat on the other side of the small table.
His eyes met hers. In them, she saw the general take over. “I need to know how it works.”
Chapter 12
Carver
“Howwhatworks?”Amrynasked, a furrow appearing between her brows.
Carver longed to smooth it out—with his fingers or his lips—but that’s why he’d forced himself to retake his seat. He needed to keep the table between them, because he wouldn’t be able to focus if he was touching her. And he needed to focus. Needed to understand exactly what he was up against so he could keep her safe.
“The knights,” he said. “How exactly do they sense empaths?”
Amryn picked at the bread on her plate.
Realizing she needed a moment, Carver dipped a piece of his bread in the nearby bowl of onion soup. He’d been starving, but his hunger was a muted thing in the face of what she had shared with him. Her fear of the knights had made perfect sense to him—of course all empaths would fear them. But now, he knew exactly why she was terrified of them.
At seven years old, she’d watched them murder her mother. They’d tried to kill her, too. It broke his heart. And made him feel more than a little murderous himself. If Tiras hadn’t stepped in and saved her . . .
His blood suddenly chilled. Because only now was he realizing just how terrifyingly strong her brother must be.
“He killed them. Four powerful men, and Tirasdestroyedthem. He was twelve years old.”
The words Amryn had uttered in Esperance ghosted through his mind, making his skin tighten. Tiras, still a boy, had killedfour knights.
“I don’t really know how it works,” Amryn said.
He glanced up at her soft words, momentarily fascinated by the sight of her red hair glowing in the soft lamplight. It reminded him of how she’d looked when he’d first entered the room. Seeing how she’d brightened at the sight of him, relief shining in her eyes, had warmed him completely. And, Saints, that dress. It was enough to distract any man, let alone one who was already enthralled by her.
He forced himself to focus. “They use their rings, right?” He was trying to remember everything he’d ever heard about the knights, but in truth, he’d never paid much attention. But he knew every fully knighted member of the Order wore a bone ring. He’d never considered how macabre those rings were, but now it was all he could think about. The knights wore a bone shard of an executed empath as jewelry. He’d grown up thinking that empaths weren’t human. Maybe that had made it acceptable somehow. But now that he was sitting across from an empath—married to one—the whole idea was horrific.
Guilt sliced deep, because he knew it should have been horrific long before now.
Amryn bit her lower lip. Her pale green eyes were unreadable. “I used to think the bone ring was what helped them hunt empaths. Almost as if that piece of an empath’s bone could recognize another empath’s bone; like being drawn to like, or something of that sort. And maybe they do work that way, but I’m no longer sure that’s all there is to it. Felinus was able to sense me without a bone ring, and he wasn’t sure how that was possible. Maybe he gained the skill after wearing the ring so long, or maybe he had an innate gift for it already.”
Carver frowned. “A gift . . . like your empathy?” Blazing Saints, were the knightsempaths?
