When he finally quieted, she pulled her hand away.
He stared at her, chest heaving.
"Is it always like this?" she asked softly. "Always this... urgent?"
"I don't know," he admitted. "I've never felt anything like what I feel for you." He cupped her face, tilting it toward the starlight so he could see her. "But I hope so. I hope it's always like this. I hope I never stop wanting you so badly I lose my senses in courtyards."
Delia laughed, breathless and giddy. "That might make captaining difficult."
"Worth it." He kissed her nose, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. "Everything is worth it, with you."
They lingered for a moment, pressed together in the shadows, catching their breath. The night air was cool against Delia's flushed skin, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She felt wrung out and rebuilt. Seen and wanted andpowerfulin a way she'd never imagined.
Then Ralvar shifted, and she felt him already hardening again against her thigh.
"Already?" She couldn't keep the wonder out of her voice.
"I told you." He lifted her effortlessly. "Orc blood runs hot. And you—" He pressed his forehead to hers. "You could make a dead man rise, Delia Harrowmere."
She laughed again, wrapping her arms around his neck as he stepped out of the alcove. "Where are we going?"
"My quarters." He strode through the darkened corridors, carrying her like she weighed nothing. "Where I can take my time with you. Where I can make you scream without worrying about the watch patrol."
Her breath caught. "The watch patrol? Were they—"
"Probably." He didn't sound remotely concerned. "By morning, every orc in Northwatch will know their captain has a very enthusiastickrenna."
She should have been mortified. Instead, she tightened her arms around him and said, "Good."
His stride hitched. "Good?"
"Good." She kissed the edge of his jaw, tasting salt and musk. "Let them know. Let them hear. I'm done hiding what I feel. I'm done being ashamed of wanting things."
Ralvar stopped walking entirely.
For a moment, he just looked at her—this massive, fearsome warrior, frozen in the middle of a mountain fortress, holding her like she was the most precious thing he'd ever touched.
"Say that again," he said hoarsely.
"I'm done being ashamed."
"Again."
"I'm done being ashamed of wanting you. Of wantingthis." She cupped his face, made him meet her eyes. "I spent my whole life being told I was too much. Too big. Too loud. Too hungry. And I believed them. I made myself smaller and smaller, trying to fit into the space they said I deserved." Her voice cracked, but she pushed through. "But you—you look at me like I could never be enough. Like there's not enough of me to satisfy you. And I—" She swallowed hard. "I'm starting to believe you."
He made a raw, broken sound and kissed her so deeply she forgot her own name.
"My quarters," he said roughly when they finally broke apart. "Now."
She nodded against him. "Yes."
He started walking again, faster now, his long stride eating up the corridors. Delia caught glimpses of torchlight, heard distant voices that cut off abruptly as they passed, but she didn't care.
Let them see. Let them know.
She was done with shame.
Chapter 22
