His lips graze hers, and her whole mouth tingles in anticipation.
Then he pulls away and sighs. “I can’t stop thinking about Elowyn.”
It takes a moment for Arisanna’s thoughts to catch up with him, and she tries to hide her disappointment. His love for his family just makes him more attractive. Even if she’s struggling to keep up with his starts and stops tonight.
“We’ll try to contact her when we wake, all right? And talk to Tharios and probably your parents.”
Cerian pulls back even farther to meet Arisanna’s eyes. “How will we contact her?”
“We could send a telegram from Feressa, but...that’s a day’s journey, isn’t it?”
“A...telegram?”
“Yes. It’s a message sent over wires.”
Cerian turns thoughtful. “We’re halfway to the border. In the real world, I mean. Perhaps we should keep going.”
Keep going? Walk all the way to Feressa? Arisanna gulps at the lump in her throat. “All right.”
Thoughts of that journey bounce around in her head when suddenly he’s kissing her.
“Thank you,” he murmurs against her lips before claiming her mouth again.
It’s enough to make her dizzy, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she wraps her arms around his neck and leans into his kiss. His hands rub her lower back, and he draws her even closer, deepening the kiss as all thoughts of Feressa drain away.
She’ll follow him anywhere if he keeps doing that.
Then he’s kissing her jaw and her neck, and without thinking, she sets her hands on either side of his head to hold herself steady.
His kisses stop as his breath grows ragged and heavy.
Stars above. His ears.
Should she move her hands? Or touch his ears more?
No one tells you how awkward kissing someone can be when you’ve never kissed anyone before.
Other than last night.
“Cerian,” she breathes. What was she even planning to say?
When he pulls back to meet her gaze, she can feel the fire oozing from his eyes. The heated look he sends her in the starlight shining down on them—it’s desperate yet restrained.
Barely.
And her hands are still on his ears.
They’re both breathing hard, and words seem to flow between them without being spoken. Words of yearning and love and acceptance.
It doesn’t matter that it’s awkward. It’s Cerian. Her elven prince. Her fire wielder.
The other half of her heart.
And she presses her lips to his with her own desperate passion as her thumbs slide along his ears. He groans against her and returns her kiss in kind. Only the faintest hint of smoke fills her senses. The water really is working.
Would it keep working?
Before she can ponder that thought, the edges of her vision darken, and she grasps at the press of his lips and hands against her flesh before everything fades away, taking their starlight and blazing fire with it.
