“Only this once,” he warned. “Just to stop your pestering.”
Despite his initial hesitation, he guided me through the music, keeping up even as the pace frenzied. Our wings beat in unison. We twirled across the clouds, lost in the soaring violins, the complicated spins, and the beauty and wonder of it all. Before the first song ended, he was already flushed and smirking.
And so was I.
“How can you do that without flinching?” he asked, guiding us to a more secluded part of the clouds. Toward the pillars and the stars.
“Do what?”
“Touch me,” he answered, bringing his gauntleted hand to the back of my neck. “Like this.”
Like—oh. My left hand was perched on his shoulder, absently threading through his hair.
“I must be hypnotized by your impressive dancing skills,” I said to save face.
“Hmm,” he murmured, bringing his hand back to my waist.
“It’s nothing, really,” I insisted. “Your hair looked soft, is all.”
The fingers around my waist tightened, metal talons digging into the silk.
Oh? So this isn’t anything, either, then?his hungry grip seemed to suggest. But he pushed too hard, talons pinching my side, and I flinched.
He began to pull away from me, removing his hand from my waist.
“I have nothing against your hands,” I said, making a point to squeeze the hand that held my right. “But they are encased in knives.”
He cast a fleeting glance downward, apparently startled by the realization that his hands were, indeed, encased in metal.
“I’ve worn these for so long,” he noted quietly, flexing his fingers. “Dreamers wear gauntlets or gloves to remind themselves they aren’t in reality. A kind of protection, really—dulling the senses so we never forget what the Realm truly is. If we forget, then we might never choose to wake. We might forget where we are, who we are, andwhywe are.” He added, eyes darkening, “The sensation of touch is a powerful thing to get lost in. I’ve rarely allowed myself to enjoy it.”
He looked at his hands again, weighing, considering. Finally, with a slight shift in his eyes, the gloves drew back, melting into the spires that lined his forearms. His right hand, now unbound, stretched against my back; his left hand roved the curves of my fingers. The shadows in his eyes were on the brink of shattering. He clenched the fabric at my back, as if that would anchor him.
I couldn’t help wondering again how long it had been since he’d felt the touch of another. There was solace in the warmth of skin on skin. To have that feeling dulled or removed entirely was unthinkable. The Bringer’s expression changed; the cold mask of indifference was coming back. Without thinking, I pulled his hand to my face.
“Bringer. Look at me.”
For a breath, his hand stilled on my skin. His expression was guarded, unreadable. But then his thumb brushed my jawline. Long fingers stretched across the curve of my neck, winding into my hair. The braid the dreamer had given me gave him pause, so he unbound it—whether by his magic or his hands, I couldn’t tell—then snagged my lower lip with his thumb. The shadows in his eyes darkened, beckoning, then eddied away.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, skimming his thumb across my mouth. “I’ve always thought so. Did you know that?”
Maker, my skin was warm.Of course I didn’t know that.
His touch lingered, then drifted, and before doubt could take hold, I leaned in, pressing a soft, tentative kiss along the line of his jaw, just below his ear. With his helm cast aside in favor of a mask, the air between us shivered with intoxicating tension. I lingered there, close enough to feel his breath, frozen between the urge to kiss him again and the desire to savor this moment a little longer.
“As are you, Shadow Bringer. You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever known.”
His breath hitched as he pulled me close, tilting his face so that his mouth hovered over mine. In that suspended moment, uncertainty flickered in his eyes, as if questioning whether I truly wanted this. Desperate to erase his doubts, I cradled his face in my hands, fingertips tracing the features left exposed by his mask. I could feel the tremor in his touch, but I also felt his longing—the yearning to lose himself, if even for a moment. To kiss me.Hard.But instead of my mouth, his lips unexpectedly found my neck.
I gasped, arching into him and giving more access to that skin. Skin that was now absolutely and unequivocally burning.
He made a soft growl against my neck, dragging his teeth down the column of my throat. My eyes fluttered shut when I felt him there—brief brushes of his lips and tongue punctuated by the graze of histeeth. Teeth that I had once imagined would tear through my bones and devour my soul.
A slow, deliberate kiss near my ear had me writhing, pulling him closer.
Time stopped. The stars were slowly twinkling out—and something was terribly wrong.
“Esmer,” the Shadow Bringer said, his voice suddenly cracking in horror. “I remember now.”
