“No.” I ease her back down onto the bed, my hands on her shoulders. “You can barely stand. What happens if there’s another attack and you can’t fight? You’d be a liability, and you know it.”
The words sting her – I see it in her eyes – but it’s true. She knows it’s true.
“Stay here,” I continue. “Let the medics work. I’ll have Lord Zevran and Lord Castor with me, I won’t be alone.”
“I’m supposed to protect you.” Her voice is raw.
Our faces are close enough that I can see the dark blue ring around her pupils, our eyes holding each other’s gaze so intensely, it feels as if time itself has stopped.
I snap back to reality, moving suddenly away.
“Rest,” I say. “That’s an order.”
I’m at the door when she speaks again.
“Lady Cyra.”
I turn back.
“Be careful,” she says. “Please.”
The please breaks me. Ren doesn’t say please. Ren doesn’t beg.
“I will,” I promise.
The corridor outside the medical chambers is empty except for one figure pacing anxiously.
Zevran.
He’s still in the torn, bloodstained clothes from the explosion. His dark blond hair disheveled, his grey eyes shadowed with exhaustion. He looks like he hasn’t slept for days.
When he sees me, he stops mid-stride.
For a heartbeat, we just stare at each other across the empty corridor. Then he’s moving towards me. He pulls me into his arms with enough force to steal my breath, his embrace crushing, desperate, like he’s trying to convince himself I’m real. I feel the tremor run through his body, the way his hands grip my back like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he lets go.
“I thought I’d lost you,” he breathes against my hair.
I wrap my arms around him, feeling the solid warmth of him, the familiar scent of leather and sandalwood. My body remembers this. Remembers the way his touch sets my skin on fire.
He pulls back just enough to look at me, his hands coming up to cup my face. His grey eyes are bright with unshed tears, with relief and fear.
Then he’s kissing me.
Not gentle. Not careful. Desperate and hungry and raw. His mouth claims mine like he’s trying to prove we’re both still alive, that we survived when we shouldn’t have. I kiss him back with equal intensity, my hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer – injuries and pain be damned.
This is what we are together – fire and need and bodies thatunderstand each other even when words fail. The sex, the passion, the way he makes me feel powerful and wanted and alive.
Zevran finally breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against mine. We’re both breathing hard, and I can feel his heart pounding against my chest.
“We aren’t promised exclusively to each other, I know, but … I’m here,” he says quietly, fiercely. “Whatever comes next – the vote, the aftermath, all of it – I’m with you.”
“The vote…” I manage, my voice unsteady.
“I’ll be right beside you.” His hands slide down to grip mine.
He kisses me once more, softer this time but no less certain. Then he steps back, keeping one hand firmly in mine.
“We should go,” he says.
