Fire, the Veil shard in her chest screamed with each touch.
I’m not afraid to play with fire.
Fingers slid under her shirt and found skin. Despite the heat running through her body—insideher—she shivered. His palm rested in a gentle hum against her back, sliding but not searching. Enough to quiet the men behind them, but not enough for what Brela needed to get Ovir out of her mind.
And then Valkip stood and pulled her with him. She gasped, and then her body sank against his. She parted her lips to allow his tongue in, heat rising as a grumble echoed in his throat and he tightened. Every muscle was pressed against her. Hard lines underneath fabric.
How many tattoos were etched into the skin underneath his shirt? She needed to see.
Burning,the shard hissed. The dagger against her thigh bit her skin.
Let him burn me, then.
Her fingers found where his shirt was tucked into his pants. A slight tug, her fingers brushed skin. His hands wrapped around her wrists and plucked them away. Light, but commanding.
Valkip’s grip remained around her wrists as he lifted his mouth away. He blinked, eyes slightly dazed as he tried to focus on her. An effect of the shadow magic? She’d never been this close with someone sun-blessed. Could he pick up on her illusion? Could he feel the thrumming of the Veil shard in her chest?
His eyes focused as he looked over her shoulder. “Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse us.”
Valkip tugged, not forcefully, but enough for her to stumble after him.
His voice had been cold. His grip had gone cold. He didn’t flinch as he walked back toward the rooms of the inn, dragging her with him. She barely caught a glimpse of the soldier from the markets and Slop sitting at the bar—their faces bright red—before the captain pulled her into the hallway.
For a brief moment, she wondered if Valkip was leading her to her death. If he had felt every dagger that she had sheathed against her body while they were pressed impossibly close to each other. If he couldfeelthe illusion magic pulsing out of her skin with his sun-blessed senses.
Maybe, just maybe, she regretted playing with fire.
She heard the voices down the hallway. Even with dulled senses, so did he; and he moved faster than she did, in a way she never expected.
Brela sucked in an audible gasp as Valkip dropped his hands to her legs and lifted her with ease, though the noise she made was more in a pinch of fear—his fingers had been just inches from grasping Night Carver sheathed against her thigh.
Her arms wrapped around his neck, and she was pressed against the door with gentle passion. As soon as her legs tightened around his hips, his hands were against her waist, mouth and tongue against her neck. Brela wove her fingers through his hair—gripping, commanding,tighteningas his teeth teased her skin.
Four hells, let him burn me.
His mouth was back to hers before she could gasp with the gentle thrust his hips made against her. One hand slid away from her, working the lock of the door while the voices down the hallway got louder—and that only made his tongue more adventurous. She couldn’t help the noise that left her chest.
She vaguely heard Graybeard and Corbin’s conversation turn into a flustered mumbling as they finally walked into the hallway and spotted them, but the door opened and she was inside before she could sneak a glance at their faces.
But as soon as the door had closed—Valkip using her body to close it—his mouth left hers and he hovered just inches away. Blinking. Waiting for the men to pass.
“You aren’t even going to take me to the bed?” Brela asked, her voice a quiet rasp. The men in the hallway still hadn’t passed.
The captain twitched slightly. “I told you, I’m not that kind—“
“Fine,” she grumbled, leaning away from him. She unlocked one of her legs and kicked at the table next to the door, sending it crashing to the ground.
Brela closed her eyes, but before she could let out a dramatic moan, Valkip’s hand wrapped around her mouth. Her eyes snapped open in surprise to find him barely holding back his laughter. And before he could burst, she yanked him closer and threw her free hand over his mouth to silence him.
Which only made him thrust her against the door again with a loud thud.
Thatwould give them something to talk about.
* * *
The men scurried past quickly.
And once they were out of earshot, Cason couldn’t help but snicker through her fingers that still clasped around his mouth. “Were you about to do what I thought you were going to do?” he mumbled. He was almost certain she was about to make a moan that would shake the tables in the tavern.
