The world became small. The warm pond. The vast sky. Ellina’s slender form, her dark hair, a black fabric on the water’s surface. Venick moved toward her, reaching out an uncertain hand. All his hope—and his doubts—came rushing back. He searched her expression, expecting to see shyness or uncertainty, but she did not look shy or uncertain. She looked resolute. Venick slid his palm around her waist.
“Do you trust me?” he asked quietly.
“Yes.”
He held her lightly, giving low instructions as he moved them deeper, showing her how to tread water, how to push and pull it around her. He spoke continuously, relaying the information, but his mind, like the water, was adrift.
“Are you afraid?” he asked.
“No.”
They moved deeper. He showed her how to suck in a lungful of air, how to hold it. How to cup her hands, look for currents, feel them ripple and spread. Venick continued to speak, but he didn’t know what he was saying. He couldn’t concentrate, not with Ellina so close. The air around them became warm. His blood was alive in his veins. He was caught in the idea that Ellina had once been cold, the very picture of an elven soldier, but now she was not. Her skin was soft under his fingertips. Her lips looked full and round.
She caught his eye and saw his expression. It changed hers.
The water splashed around them as she came back to standing. He realized he wasn’t speaking anymore. He didn’t know when he had stopped.
She said the water would give him answers.
His question. He knew what he wanted to ask. But he was afraid. He felt as if he’d asked already and pushed a topic that he knew better than to push.
“Venick.”
He remembered the sound of her voice in the forest when she sang. Lovely. A little hushed. He remembered how it was to hear her sing, the way it buoyed him. He felt like that now.
Her answers. He could have them.
But what were words, really? What were questions, when there was this soft silence that felt like knowing? Venick didn’t need to ask for answers. He could reach out andtakethem.
He did. He lifted a hand. He brushed Ellina’s bottom lip with a thumb. He watched, breath held, waiting for her to pull away, to tell him no, we can’t, not like this, Venick, not again.
But she didn’t do that. She didn’t, and Venick was filled with sudden wonder, because he’d thought about this, and guessed, and second-guessed, and now...
Now her breath was changing. His was, too.
This time when Venick kissed her, he kissed her slowly. He felt the kiss everywhere, in his fingers, his belly. It swelled through him. He pushed a hand into her wet hair, despite his promises to himself, despite all the reasons he shouldn’t.
This is what Venick wanted to ask her:
This was the question burning inside him:
When you killed that southern conjuror.
When you bargained for my life.
Did you do it out of love of Lorana, or maybe...was it out of love for me, too?
Venick’s kiss became that question, and Ellina’s body answered. She moved under his touch. Her form sealed against his, her fingers fanning across his skin. Her breath tickled. He pulled her closer. She breathed a word that might have been his name, her lips moving against his, faster now. He dipped his tongue into her mouth. His need pooled low, the sweet ache of it like a burning rope.
The water splashed. The image of them rippled on its glassy surface. A perfect blue sky. Flushed skin, bodies tangled. And a human who knew the consequences of falling in love, but did it anyway.
FORTY
Ellina surrendered to the kiss.
It moved through her, swelling into something full-bodied and deep. An ocean. She was floating in it. This feeling. Him.
He cupped her face in his hands. His thumbs pressed gently into her hairline, then harder, gaining urgency. He exhaled into her mouth. She breathed him in.
