“Aren,” I whisper, and she doesn’t shy away this time. This close, I savor every eyelash, every pore, every freckle. Even a fever dream in the depths of Namreth’s dungeons couldn’t make her this beautiful, this real.
Her warm breath fans across my skin, and something coils inside me, hot and ready.
Slowly, I reach out and tuck a piece of hair that has escaped its braid behind her ear. She doesn’t flinch away from my touch this time.
“Aren Bellamore, you mean more to me than anyone else in this entire world,” I say.
Then I close my eyes, lean in…and wait. I’ve been wanting to do this ever since she walked into the room. She rises onto her tiptoes to meet me.
The kiss is gentle, soft. Our lips barely brush, and it’s over quickly, but it feels more intimate, more vulnerable than any of the earlier kisses we’ve shared. The warmth of her touch is as charming as a spell.
When I open my eyes, I find hers still closed, and I smile. For once, I forget about the Rings, and I’m just an ordinary man kissing an ordinary woman.
How strange, not to feel the chaos inside me as the taste of her fills my heart. Not to feel the Whisting, choking and savage, roiling within like a snake ready to strike.
I frame her face with my hands, brushing my thumbs over the arches of her cheekbones, and breathe her in. She smells of temple incense and of the healer’s sweet oil. A soft sigh escapes her as my hand glides up her back, while her slender fingers send sparks across my skin wherever she touches. I deepen the kiss, caressing her cheek in my palm.
Aren’s fingers curl into the fabric of my shirt as she pulls me closer. I slide my hand to her waist and draw her in, our bodies finally touching. I pull her tightly against me so that she can feel exactly how much I want her.
A low sound rumbles in my throat, and heat surges inside me like I have a fever all over again.
Without breaking the kiss, I guide us from the balcony, back inside, and lower her down onto the bed, her yellow dress spilling across the linens. For a moment all I can do is stare at her and wonder at my good fortune before I lie down beside her.
I meet her eyes as I peel down the strap of her dress, freeing her perfect, soft breast. I bring my lips to it, gently tugging, sucking her peaked nipple. Her breaths become ragged, filled with want. Seeing her cheeks flushed, eyelids heavy, makes me feel a desire I have never known before. I want to worship her just as the acolytes here worship Sirona.
I reach down to draw her skirt up, ready to stop if she shows any hesitance, but thank the gods, she doesn’t. In fact, she grins, eyes wide as I move my hand up her leg, lingering on the smooth skin of her thigh, stroking until she squirms.
To my pleasant surprise, she’s not wearing any smallclothes, so I slide my hand higher. She lets out a surprised gasp as my fingers skim through her slickness. She goes very still, body tensing, and I hold my breath, half expecting her to scold, or slap, or run screaming from the room. But instead, she smiles and arches her back as she luxuriates in my fingers making slow, tormenting circles. She runs her hands across my chest, leaving trails of heat as she strokes my abdomen. Her one hand starts to roam lower and lower still, until it covers my hardness.
“Gods,” I murmur into the soft skin of her throat.
She strokes my length languidly, teasing me, making my insides coil in pleasure. She slides her hands back up my body and draws my face to meet hers once more. Breathing hard, heat rising inside me, I kiss her again, harder this time. She holds me close, her lips soft and warm, and the world melts away with another sigh.
There are temples to a variety of gods all over the world, but hers is the only one where I care to worship. I thank all the gods in all the heavens that I’m healed enough to enjoy this.
“Sometimes you make me forget to breathe when you kiss me like that,” I murmur when we finally pull apart for a moment.
“Good,” she says, her lip curling in a way that makes my blood roar. “Gives you more time to focus on what you do best.”
“And what’s that?”
“Kissing me back.”
“Thank the gods this isn’t a dungeon,” I say, rising to my knees.
I sit back on my haunches and look upon Aren, beautifully mussed and rosy. I take the hem of her dress and slowly roll it up her body. She puts her arms up for me to pull the gown over her head. Then she sits before me, in radiant light, naked and perfect and mine.
“Think you’re about to get lucky?” she teases.
For just a moment, my awareness shifts to the Rings, which have been quiet this whole time. They’re still quiet.
I allow myself to hope.
“Oh, I know I am,” I say with the biggest grin of my life.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Aren
