The pain blistering his voice makes me slide my fingers up his throat and thumb the hard tendon that runs from the edge of his collarbone to the base of his jaw. His lashes fall, skimming the faint drips of black forever ornamenting his eyes, and his neck bends until his forehead comes to rest upon mine.
“My blood may be tied to another, but my heart belongs only to you.”
Although his body is one with the stone beneath his boots, as I stroke, my mate begins to thaw.
“Once this is all over, make me your queen?”
His pulse jumps beneath the pad of my thumb. “Why do you make it sound like a question?”
I wind my fingers through his silken locks, gliding each strand across my knuckles.
Though he shivers, his voice doesn’t when he rasps, “Swear that you will never fucking leave me again.”
I understand his worry, for in the past, I’ve put myself in impossible situations believing they’d benefit us, but I will never willingly return to a place he cannot reach.
“I swear that I will never fucking leave you again, Lorcan Ríhbiadh.” The bargain jabs my heart, inscribing a burning dot that Lorcan will be able to use at will should I ever consider hunting Dante down on my own.
Perish the thought.
I keep caressing the taut tendons of his neck, drinking in the slick fragrance of thunder that lifts off my mate’s pale skin.
He grips my hip and nudges my nose with his before dragging it along my cheekbone. In my ear, he murmurs, “You did not have to repeat me word for word.”
I frown but then smile when I realize what’s gotten his feathers in a bunch. He, too, smiles as his nose backtracks across my cheek. I fill my lungs with his slow, even breaths, and although I’m aware we need to return to the real Market Tavern, I hold on to this precious interlude.
Forgive me for earlier, Little Bird. I shouldn’t have taken my wounded pride and heart out on you.
You’re forgiven, but please, Lore, never again allude that I may want Dante, because there’s only one man for me—you.
After he nods, I roll up onto my toes and press my mouth to his, but don’t coax his lips apart. I let him soften at his own speed, allowing him to realize that he and I are together and safe, and though we’ve a million and one tribulations to contend with, none can touch us, not when he’s surrounded by his Crows, and I’m tucked inside his kingdom . . . inside his arms.
Lore glides his palm to the small of my back and flattens it there, then spreads his fingers until his hand spans the full breadth of my waist. Only once his body is anchored to mine does his mouth finally move.
Slowly, so slowly, his lips part mine, granting me access to his every breath and every heartbeat. I lap both up greedily, growing lightheaded from his deliberate kisses and exacting touches. Cauldron, how I’ve missed him.
I gorge on his heat and flavor, willing him to enter deeper, to fill every dark crevasse of my body and soul, to rush into me like the stream that tumbles down his mountain in order to flush away the last month.
His mouth draws mine open infinitesimally wider but still, his tongue does not sweep in, his teeth do not graze. I consume the precious air he feeds me until my lungs cramp, and I’m forced to give it back to the sky and land.
Did he kiss you?he whispers into my mind.
My lips stumble off his.I thought we were done with this topic.
I didn’t ask whetheryoukissedhim.The corners of his eyes crease as though this conversation causes him physical pain.I asked whether he dared put his lips on your body.
No, Lore.I shake my head to drive my answer deeper into my chary mate.All Dante wanted from me was my blood.
His eyes sweep over my brow, nose, cheeks, chin, before settling on the pulse point at the base of my neck. Is he trying to detect whether I lie from my skin’s palpitation?
I bristle. “How could you think I’d kiss that man?”
Lore’s fingers drop from my hair and drift down my spine before latching onto my wrist and clasping my fingers. He carries them to the organ hammering against his black leathers. “Because I’m a brutally jealous man, and you, Little Bird, are my mate. My one true everything.” He splays his hand over mine. “My fucking forever.”
My irritation wanes. I fell for this man hard and fast, and perhaps the falling was prompted by magic, but the staying . . . the desire to be his until the end of time . . . that hasnothingto do with magic. I stay because this man now lives in my heart, in my bones, in my very soul.
I flick back the lock of black hair obscuring one of his citrine eyes.I want this to be over.
His fingers harden over mine, and then his face tilts infinitesimally lower. “Sorry to disappoint, mo khrà, but you and I willneverbe over.”
