How she found the strength, she couldn’t say. At this very moment, she was completely, utterly under his spell.
“No, Blainor.” The low-spoken words dragged out against her. “I don’t think I should.”
Blainor’s forehead pressed against hers. His gaze was heavy and full of danger, like a dark storm brewing. Blainor’s hands trembled as he stroked her face. “Don’t deny me,” he breathed, a near plea. “Not tonight, Trisha an Tilia.”
The kiss that followed burned away all sense. Trisha couldn’t catch her breath, spiraling into the sensations his nimble fingers and mouth conjured. He broke off, tracing her lips with a roguish smile. And yet, it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Still no?”
And gods, how she wanted to say yes—yes, yes, yes. But she couldn’t. The pain of her abandonment lived too close to her skin. First, her mother. Then, the pains in the Undying Lands preceding those early failures in this mortal world. She’d been hurt too often.
“I-I-”
He watched Trisha’s movements, as though to compel her to change her mind. Undressing her with his sultry stare. And then with his hands. The world intruded on their cocoon in the twilight with its muffled sounds of laughter and music from yonder. The effigy still burned, but the flames were low.
A sprinkle of sea mist cooled her further. Stepping back, Trisha broke away from his touch. Her sleeves hung from her shoulders, exposing her neck and chest, but she didn’t fix her dress. He’d already seen and touched what it hid. Being half-naked didn’t scare her. She feared what he’d expose if she allowed herself to succumb to his promise of a kiss, a night in his bed.
“I cannot,” she said.
Blainor fed her morsels of truth but never laid down the full feast. His gaze may burn her, but it remained veiled to what lay behind. No fire, no passion would convince him to reveal what he kept locked away.
“You… you cannot?” Despite the softness of his voice, the words were cutting. “You asked for real. There’s not much more real I can show you than right here and now.”
“No!” And how could she explain? “You’re—” Her words died.
“Go ahead, say what you need to say.”
“Why did you make me your bard, Blainor? What do you really want?”
“I thought it was obvious. Or am I not speaking in the righttongue?” he asked with a tone like a blade’s edge. “You seemed willing enough.”
“I’d be a fool to believe your only motivation is to have me in your bed. The Warlord of the Twelve shouldn’t have trouble finding partners for that task.”
“Trisha, is that insecurity I hear? I didn’t take you as one to ask for reassurance.”
“I need to trust. And can I trust you, Blainor? What are you offering me—a moment by your side? A month to burn in your hands, and then what?” Her hands balled at her sides. “You’d take all I am but give nothing back.”
The restless sea spilled white foam over the sharp rocks. Her hair, freed from the braid he’d undone, flowed around her waist.
“I doubt even a year would be enough.” His gaze devoured her features and exposed skin. And when he spoke, his rough words tingled her every nerve. “You… crawl under my skin, Trisha.” The tendons in his neck strained as he swallowed. “Your music, your smell, how you refuse to bow to me.” He whispered, barely overcoming the wind, “I’ve seen how you watch me. How your body reacts when I’m near. Mine, too. Don’t you dare say you don’t want me. Ifeelthe truth.”
It was so hard not to lean in and let him have her. All Trisha knew was that she couldn’t. Not to him, even when he made every nerve in her body sing like no other before. She couldn’t afford to risk him, not when it might mean being used. Betrayed. And possibly abandoned at his whim.
“I want my freedom more than your touch,” she said quietly.
He flinched, keen expression now fractured. A wounded look flickered behind his gaze before a gust of cold wind swept it away. Blainor laughed. It was a dry, bitter sound. “Freedom?What you call freedom is just another lie, Trisha. A convenient escape.”
“I’d rather take my lie than accept yours,” she snapped.
The fire had abandoned him. All that remained was an angry man standing before her.
“I’ve never lied to you, Trisha.”
“But you never give me the truth, either! Am I now to trust your word? Throw myself in your arms just because you want me? Desire isn’t enough to—” Her voice broke. Why couldn’t he understand? She needed more than flirtation and half-truths.
The stony look on his face ached her heart. How was it possible to turn passion into fury so quickly? She shoved down the regret, resolved not to show him how deeply she was hurting.
“I won’t burn for a man who refuses to show his true fire. The truth.”
