“You said I’d make a lovely pyre, so why would I intentionally burn myself to ash?”
“You shouldn’t fear that.” He took her hand, tracing her fingers before placing it against his chest. “Trust what I told you: the fire I invoke wouldn’t cause pain.”
Her heart thrummed at a mad pace. “N-Not unless asked, if I recall your words.”
“Is that an invitation, my dear?”
“No! Blainor—” Growling at herself, she yanked her hand free. “Why do you always twist my words? Is nothing real to you?”
The waves rolled in, bringing salt and moisture. The bonfire still burned, a distant light, like through a shroud.
“Real?” A tenor of amusement lacing his deep voice, the man edged ever closer. She didn’t step back, bound by her own desire just as much as by the look in his eyes. “If real is what you want, I could show you.” His full lips curved. Then, words,both a challenge and a promise. “Ask me, Trisha. And I’ll show you everything real.”
Her mouth went dry as she tried to remember why she should say no, but all her excuses had crumbled to dust.
He stood before her, watching, waiting for what she’d give him.
“How?” The whisper left her before she caught it.
A flash of gray eyes. He leaned closer. She closed her eyes.
Blainor didn’t speak with words. His answer was the warmth of his breath, the pressure of his strong hands.
Trisha didn’t doubt either.
What remained was an aching stillness of the moment.
And her world unravelling at the press of his lips.
18
Blainor kissedher like a man parched, as if only she could sate his thirst. He kissed. Kissed deeper. She gave freely, taking just as much in return. Two people who’d wanted it for too long were finally allowed to touch. When he tasted the tender place near her neck, just under her ear, a low groan left Trisha’s lips. She wove her finger through those dark curls, testing the strength of his broad shoulders and chest. Blainor pulled her closer; she merged with him like a note into a song.
Stirred awake by the press of Blainor’s hands, Trisha’s magic cooed, tempting her to ignite into flames.
“Tell me, Trisha. Is this real enough for you?” His ragged breath was hot against her mouth.
“Blainor—” Another searing kiss silenced her.
“Your song nearly undid me today,” he muttered, tracing the shape of her waist. “Don’t do that again.” His wet lips pressed her skin, the rough stubble tickling. “Unless you’ve changed your mind and wish for me to abduct you.”
Thoughts feverish and fogged, she drew a quick breath. It entwined with his.
“Still no,” she gasped, unsure what she was saying no to.
His heartbeat thrummed against her palm. All she tasted was him. All she smelled was him: the smoke, the evergreen forest, the sharp scent of cedar. Every part of her quivered to get closer and scorch everything separating their bodies.
“Shame,” Blainor murmured after stealing another kiss. “I’d show you all the wicked things I want to do to you.”
“This isn’t wicked enough for you?”
“Starling… you have no idea.” His laughter was low, dark, and full of heated promise. “Come with me, and I’ll make you sing.”
She nearly did. Every nerve in Trisha wanted him to coax music from her mouth, body, and between her thighs.
But that stubborn part of her that refused to be beholden remembered what it meant to trust and bleed. It wouldn’t be silenced, reminding her of the cost.
The agonizing memory of a hand, leading her to the stone circles, cooled down the flames. Trisha had trusted and been left behind. If she now agreed, she’d dismantle every barrier between them, leaving herself vulnerable.
