He leans close to my ear, sending a rogue chill across my skin. “You look good enough to eat.” My face warms as he leads me to my chair and pulls it out for me before taking his place at my side. Discreetly, he slips his hand over mine and whispers, “You make that necklace even more beautiful.”
I shove away any worry about having eyes on us and kiss his cheek, feeling the slight stubble already growing along his jaw.
His mouth turns up. “Why, thank you.”
Grinning like a fool, I turn back to the table.
Poor Rhonin, in his plain white day tunic and brown trousers, stands frozen with indecision. When Hel saunters toward him, she passes Mari on the way and gives her a look from the corner of her eye. But Rhonin’s attention is solely on Hel.
With her curves on display beneath her clinging emerald gown, he blinks with astonishment, taking her in.
“Why are you gawking?” she asks. “Are you so used to seeing me covered in filth and wielding weapons that you’ve forgotten that I’m also a lady?”
“Not at all.” He shakes his head insistently and moves her chair back from the table. “Okay, maybe a little. But if I forgot, I’ve certainly been reminded now.”
She looks up at him and smiles.
In her silky blue dress that shows off her slender yet strong frame, Nephele stalks toward the last open setting at the table. The one beside Joran.
She grabs the back of her chair before he gets a chance. “I can seat myself. I don’t need your help for anything.”
He drenches her in a wicked once-over. “Anything? Are you so sure?”
With a look that says she’s seconds from gouging his eyes out with a dinner fork, Nephele jerks her chair back. “Positive.”
Once we’re all set and no one is killing anyone, Mari and Yaz finish bringing the dinner in. The food here has been plentiful, but I haven’t felt like devouring a full meal until now. There’s a rich, red wine being passed around—not that I need more—and roasted chicken and baked fish swimming in some sort of fragrant yellow sauce and roasted vegetables and breads and even spiced pies for dessert. My mouth waters and my stomach grumbles at the sight.
Zahira and Yaz stand at the head of the table, arm in arm, wine glasses in hand. “A toast,” Zahira says. “To everyone in this room. May the Ancient Ones show each of you intrepid warriors the truths you need to see and may Loria light your paths with clarity.”
We clang our glasses together, and though Zahira’s words resonate in each person’s expressions, it seems our stomachs resound even louder. We dig in.
It’s obvious that everyone tries their best to be reserved and polite, but I’m apparently not the only one whose appetite is returning tonight. Plates are filled, and most of the chatter goes quiet because our mouths are stuffed with food. As I eat, I can’t help but wonder about Finn. If he’s all right. If he’s eating a hearty meal. Hel said he is well cared for at the Bitter Barrel thanks to Harmon and Zahira’s generosity, but I can’t help but worry.
Across the table, Rhonin hands Hel a piece of warm raisin loaf which he smothers in butter and honey. “Try it. I bet you’ll love it.”
The sound that leaves my best friend when she bites into the bready goodness is a deep, unexpected moan that makes Rhonin’s mouth fall open. She eats the whole thing as he watches her lips, then she licks the honey from her fingertips.
“Gods, Rhonin. That almost earned you a sticky, wet kiss.”
Rhonin closes his mouth and swallows. His face turns three shades of red. “Maybe next time?” he offers, and I nearly choke on my wine.
Callan laughs under their breath, Keth and Jaega snicker, and Alexus stares at his plate, a wide smile on his lips. Sweet Rhonin. I find myself wondering how many chances he was granted to find love before now, being in the Eastland army and all.
Dinner and too many glasses of wine pass far more quickly than I expected, given that our little band of fighters attacked the spread like they do everything else. As everyone chats, Alexus strokes my leg under the table, causing my overly full stomach to flip. Perhaps eating a large meal and nearly an entire bottle of wine before having possibly the best sex of my life wasn’t the best decision.
With a grip of my knee, he stands and folds his hands around the back of my chair. “Raina and I are going to graciously dismiss ourselves so we can turn in early. It’s been a long day.”
“Exhausted,” I sign, out of a nervous need to over-explain, and Hel translates with a smile.
Everyone knows we’re lying. It’s evident on their grinning faces. Except for Joran who, I realize, stopped caring about me and Alexus spending time together weeks ago.
I dismiss the thought and stand as Alexus pulls out my chair and motions for me to lead the way toward the veranda. “I’m right behind you,” he says with a wink.
“I bet you are,” Zahira says, and the room breaks into laughter.
Alexus just smiles and presses his hand to the small of my back. “Come on. Let’s go have some fun.”
The moment he closes the creaky garden gate, Alexus sweeps me into his arms and carries me down the flagstone path toward the lighthouse. Only he veers left, taking us through a labyrinth of tall hedges into a nook at the garden’s edge where the last of the sun’s dying rays barely linger. The space is filled with the beginning shadows of nightfall, the briny scent of sea and sand, and the aroma of winter jasmine that grows in a thick, white blanket over the stone wall.
