Before she knew it, she was back in the darkness of her tent, alone.
“Narro hath hoolo,” Vi whispered. Outside, Jayme’s armor clanked as she settled into her post just on the other side of the tent flap. She had to be quiet, but she wasn’t going to be dissuaded.
Taavin appeared, her emotions linked to each swirling glyph that etched him before her from thin air. Vi watched as he sharpened and came into focus. She took an almost hesitant step forward.
“What is it?” he asked softly the moment he saw her expression. The lilt of his voice vibrated deep within her.
“My mother has the White Death.”
“Oh, Yargen’s light, Vi, I am so sorry.” Taavin crossed quickly, scooping up her hands in his.
Vi shook her head. “I’m not grieving for a mother who isn’t dead. I’m not mourning someone who’s not gone—someone who can be saved.” She locked eyes with him. “Tell me she can be saved.”
“I don’t—”
“Tell me there is a cure on Meru. Or that once we lock Raspain away for good, the White Death will be gone with him. Once he’s gone, and the spread stops, we can heal her,” Vi whispered hastily.
“I… would hope.” He sighed softly. “But I fear it won’t be so simple… And I don’t want to hurt you by promising things I cannot ensure will pass.” His thumbs stroked over hers. In the darkness of her tent, there was only him, a man with pointed ears who shimmered slightly at his edges.
“You could never hurt me. You have given me so much strength.”
“You still barely know me.” Taavin looked at her sadly. “I’ve done terrible things. And even worse things happen to the people I’ve dared to love, Vi.” His voice dropped to a thoughtful whisper, a hand loosening its grip to land on her cheek. She felt the pad of his thumb smooth over the curve of her face. But it was distant, the action unimportant to the words he spoke.
“People… youlove?”
His lips parted slightly, shock manifesting on his face. So she hadn’t heard wrong. She hadn’tfeltwrong. Vi gripped his hand more tightly; she wasn’t going to let him go now, not for anything.
She pulled gently, leaning forward, her heart racing. She’d never done this before and certainly didn’t think she was doing it right based on how Ellene had always described it—the young woman had always stressed that the man must be the first to move at all costs. That was well and good for someone who had time, for someone whose life was secure and stable. But Vi’s was one misstep from falling apart.
It might not be love yet, Vi honestly didn’t know. But she knew what she felt for this man was strong and different from anything she’d ever felt with anyone else. She knew she wanted him above all others.
“Don’t do this.” Taavin’s breath warmed her nose and mouth. Even as he protested, he moved closer—closer than they’d ever been before. “There will be no going back.”
“I certainly hope not,” she whispered.
Vi’s eyes dipped closed. The last thing she saw were his heavy lids and unfocused pupils. Darkness… and the moment his lips met hers, an explosion of color behind her eyelids.
She’d wanted this. For how long, Vi didn’t quite know. But she wanted to feel him next to her, his hand shifting to rest on her waist, the other still on her face. She wanted to feel the embroidery of his coat under her fingers and not simultaneously feel the pressure to let go.
Nothing was guaranteed or certain. The world would rob them blind on a whim. Romulin had said to savor what they had before them and, like always, he was right.
He had Andru.
And Vi had Taavin.
Chapter Fourteen
She was stiff,as was he.
They both stood rigidly against each other, struggling to move and simultaneously afraid that if they did it would bring an end to this moment. His lips hardly moved. They quivered under hers as Taavin drew a shaky breath across her mouth, his barely far enough away to find air.
Then, it was his turn to kiss her.
Vi wasn’t sure how she’d known his intent, but she had. Every bit of her sensed his want to initiate before he’d even begun to move. He’d wanted to capture what he’d been yearning for just as she had. She allowed her mouth to be consumed by his and savored each new, thrilling sensation.
More confident, his lips parted slightly, begging hers open. A small sigh escaped her lips as they shifted, wet and warm, against his. Worries melted from her mind, trickling down her spine and leaving bumps in their wake, before pooling low in her stomach, transformed there into something wonderful.
His touch had turned pain into pleasure. His lips, worry into delight. Everything faded but him and the feeling of his warmth—no longer frustratingly a step too far away.
