But as soon as it had started, it was over. Rurik drew back, his hands falling away. Saga felt the loss of his touch like an ache.
Eyes flying open, irritation lashed through her. “That’sit?”
She could feel his smile in the darkness. “You were expecting more?”
Saga had somehow been reduced to a creature of need. Grabbing him by his jacket, she yanked him back to her, pushing onto the tips of her toes to slide her lips against his. Saga hadn’t a clue of what she was doing. All she knew was that if this was to be her first kiss, she wanted it to be something worth remembering.
“Your fire,” he breathed, as their lips broke apart and came back together. “It drives me mad.”
“No more talking,” Saga said, hands skimming along his jaw to hold him to her.
Rurik made a sound of satisfaction from somewhere deep in his throat, sending a thrill spiraling through her, burrowing deep in her belly. Hands sliding around her waist and up her back, Rurik crushed her to him. He was so large, so sturdy, so utterly warm, and Saga molded into him.
All of her sharp parts, the defenses she’d erected over years in this place, were slowly melting away. Her body was growing soft and supple, and Saga realized distantly she was letting go. Not fearing for her safety. Not searching for an exit. Was this what it felt to just live in the moment? Tofeelwith no fear?
“I should be in my room.” She gasped in glee as his lips moved to her neck, his stubble driving her mad as it scraped along her sensitive skin.
“Do you wish for me to stop?”
“Don’t you dare.” Saga’s head tilted back, thunking against the wall.
Rurik laughed into her skin, the vibrations making her body throb with need. “Good,” he rumbled. “I am not nearly finished.”
His lips moved back to hers, teasing them apart, tongue sliding into her mouth. Everything was molten and so loose, so free—her insides were liquid heat, her knees buckling, but Rurik held her pinned in place.
Saga moaned into his mouth, causing Rurik’s kisses to grow more urgent, hands roaming over her like he could not get close enough. And Saga arched into his touch, with an urgent, needy sound.
The minutes blended together, light dimming as the torch burned lower. There were only the shadows, onlythem, their hot mingling breaths and exploring hands. Rurik’s palm cupped her backside, yanking her closer. His rough handling of her made hunger knot tightly in her stomach. And she had the fleeting thought that this man wasn’t afraid she would break.
She curved her body against him, feeling the hard ridge pressing into the center of her being. Here, they were at one with the darkness. Here, they were protected. Here, she could be reckless. Could throw everything away for a night of carnal passion. But somewhere, deep within Saga, remained a shred of sense.
She pulled back. “Wait,” she panted, her mind spinning. Rurik pressed his forehead to hers, and they remained like this for several silent moments, catching their breaths.
“In case you were wondering,” he said at long last, “in Zagadka, would be considered acceptable kiss to confirm deal.”
Saga couldn’t help it—she laughed. And before long, Rurik was laughing with her. A confusion of want and logic warred within her as she righted herself and met his gaze.
This was easy.Hewas easy.
And as much as she wanted to linger with him, she knew the hour grew late. “I must return to my chambers,” she said at last.
“I am this way,” nodded Rurik, indicating the opposite direction. He retrieved her torch from the ground and helped her into the passageway behind the berserker tapestry. And after a weighted look, Kassandr Rurik closed the door behind Saga.
Alone again, in her place of safety, Saga allowed herself to smile.
She’d had a moment of freedom. And in that moment, she’d chosen, of all people,him.
Chapter Thirty
KALASGARDE
Rey was grateful for the unseasonably cool morning as he pulled apart excrement with a dull blade. He knew all too well how such an activity went beneath the full brunt of a summer sun. But between lack of heat and the fact that the dung was several weeks old, so far, there was very little odor involved.
“Why do I gather this is not your first time doing this, Galtung?” grumbled Vig from beside him.
“It’s not,” Rey found himself saying. “Be glad it is old and dry.”
They’d parted on bad terms the day prior, and Rey had fully expected Vig to abandon him to this unsavory task. But as Vig had ridden through the wards this morning, Rey’d felt both relief and a note of respect. Now, a fragile sense of peace hung in the air between the two men, the kind easily shattered with a single ill-placed word.
