But we had a mountain to save. And possibly thousands of Befest inhabitants.
So I shifted, rousing Kael. In the haze of sleep, he was tender. The strain between my thighs said that was the only moment he ever was.
He kissed my temple, then the corner of my jaw, then my neck. I exhaled and gave a soft moan, my head falling back against his strong chest.
“Kael, we need to leave,” I breathed.
He growled low. “I know, but now that I finally have you in my bed, I want to keep you here forever.”
I smiled, turned my head, and kissed him. I loved when he spoke to me that way.
His length answered me, pressing hard against my buttocks.
I was naked, desire pooling low, ready for him. He could take me right here, right now, if he wished.
Tiny bolts of lightning danced along his arm, pricking my skin as he cupped a breast in his hand. The storm was waking again.
After the siege, after I had witnessed Kael’s power in its true shape and form, I had felt it fall quiet. I had wondered how long it would take before it stirred again. His power was wild, untamed, eager to break free, and it needed only a few hours before small shards of it pushed at the edges.
Or perhaps my presence had woken it again.
I wondered what my own power would become if I let go of every box, every wall, every barrier—all of it.
Kael gave a short grunt before releasing me. We both knew we had to return to Drachenfels before anyone came looking. The king and the involved magisters would scold us for what we intended to do.
But none would stop us. Kael was the Court Wizard, and no one, especially not the king, would dare deny him.
“I need to go back to my quarters to wash and change,” I said softly.
Kael rose from the bed, pulled on his breeches, and nodded toward the large brass bathing tub by the hearth. “You can wash here. I will have your clothes fetched.”
“You can get clothesfetched?” I paused, fitting pieces together. “Wait… Do you have servants?”
He shook his head. “Technically, Icouldhave servants, but I usually have my scribe run my errands.”
I laughed. He was talking about Lo. “I’m sure your scribe enjoys that,” I teased.
Kael’s eyes darkened in a way that made me think he might bite me for the jest. Maybe I’d let him.
As if timed by the gods, a knock echoed through the chamber. “Magister Forloren,” a shy voice called. “Are you in there?”
I knew that voice.
Lo.
I could either hide beneath the bed or admit to Lo that I had been with Kael since the end of the siege. In his bed. In his quarters.
He had surely been worried sick about me. And I would not keep this from him.
It was time to come clean.
Kael glanced at me. I nodded. “Let him in,” I whispered.
“Evie?” Lo’s voice sharpened with offended shock. Curse those keen elven senses of his.
He burst into the room without a key, his telekinesis brushing aside the lock as if it were parchment. He strode straight toward the bedchamber, blue robe flaring around his legs, and I had only a heartbeat to sit upright and drag the blanket over my chest before he reached us.
His gaze snapped from Kael to me and back again. He looked as though he could not decide whether to scream or to celebrate. He finally landed on a smile. “Gods help me, I adore this far more than I should. But Evie, you will tell me all of it when we’renotin the Court Wizard’s bedchamber.”
