No one watched their backs.
No one carried the kind of haunted stillness I’d worn like a second skin my entire life.
“Thank you,” I stepped closer, enough to warm the air between us. Enough to slide my free hand to the small of her back and tug her closer, until our bodies were flush. “For showing me your city.”
She huffed a laugh. “Happy to be your tour guide,” then slid her hand up over my chest, let her palm rest there, like a brand over my heart. “Thank you for seeing this, Kaden. I mean, really seeing this place, the way I see it. I love it here.” She cast a slow, longing look around. “It’s one of the only places that has truly felt like home. I always figured I’d spend my entire life here and be perfectly happy.”
She was mesmerizing, like a painting, and I stashed this memory of her deep inside, where I could pull it out later and look at it at my leisure. Linger over every last detail—the color of her ice-blue eyes, the way her inky lashes kissed the tops of her high cheekbones.
Something I could keep forever, no matter how the rest of tonight turned out.
Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I kissed Lyrae. Deep but gentle, trying to tell her all the things I had no words for, all the emotions buried so deep in my heart I didn’t know how to begin to dig them out.
Her lips moved against mine, hungry and eager, and I urged them wider, diving my tongue into her mouth, exploring until she moaned, body pressed tight against me, my hard cock grinding against her hip.
In public.
In the middle of the street.
I pulled away, hands cupping her face, breath coming fast. “I’m sorry, that was….”
“Amazing.” She pulled me back down and I was lost, the world fading away as I was consumed by the taste of tangerines and honey, her hot, demanding tongue, the way shesoftly moaned my name into my mouth, her plush breasts crushed flat against my chest.
I didn’t know how long we stayed like that.
Long enough for one of the guards to clear his throat behind us, for the older couple to shush him.
This was all I wanted. Just this.
Her in my arms, for the rest of eternity.
“Do you want to see the Citadelle?” she asked softly, head pressed to my chest, arms wound around my waist, like she couldn’t bear to let me go. “It’s a long hike back to the top, but we should be there when the others return.”
“I could fly us there,” I murmured against her hair. “All you have to do is picture the spot you want to land.”
“I’d rather walk,” she said, not meeting my eyes, sounding adorably shy. “And hold your hand, if that’s okay.”
I wound our fingers together again before I raised them to my lips and pressed a kiss to each of her fingertips, one by one. Perfect.
She was utterly perfect, and for six of the best hours of my life, she’d been all mine.
“I would like nothing better, princess.”
58
ROOKE
Lyrae led me past a memorial wall where names of the fallen had been carved into stone—so many the list looked endless—then kept walking with her head lowered to her chest.
A street musician played a melody my mother used to hum, but I didn’t know the name of it.
A seamstress shop showcased dresses she said Ariel would love, and I teased her because she would never wear one. Oh, you never know, she laughed. I’ve been known to dress in something other than blood-splattered armor. Occasionally.
Every street brought a new surprise, a revelation, an idea that set roots deep inside me.
Roots that took hold and spread.
Until there was an entire forest of ideas inside my head.
