I lay in the dark and looked at the ceiling, and I was aware of Fear’s body against mine, even through my blankets and his. I was very tired and this was not helping.
He shifted. His arm slid across my waist, drawing me against him. His jaw nuzzled my temple, and it seemed as if he were tucking me against him.
Moving in his sleep. Probably.
With Fear,probablyhad a wide range of meanings.
When I turned my head to look at him, his golden eyes were open, glowing faintly in the darkness. His hand moved up to caress my cheek.
“You’re not asleep,” I murmured.
“You’ve been keeping me awake.”
“I’ve done nothing.”
The corner of his mouth moved. In the low light it was barely visible and somehow worse than if it had been fully visible.“Cara, when it comes to me, you’re neverdoing nothing. You arealwaysdistracting me.”
When his fingers brushed my face reverently, the warmth of his palm against my jaw, a rebellious thought rose to my mind.I think I could like to be married to this man.
I turned toward him, my cheek pressing against his throat. He shifted, the blanket sliding down his hard bare arm, reminding me that he had stripped down to his small clothes before bed since our day clothes were dusty from the road. As had I; it was the practical decision. But now he was shirtless, his skin warm against mine, and it felt less practical.
His mouth was warm and unhurried, as if he could see the road ahead of us and knew there was time enough for kissing. But I felt his exhale against my mouth, that slow, controlled breath becoming less controlled, and I smiled against his lips.
My hand brushed over his chest. His heartbeat was faster than I’d expected.
His hand moved from my face to my hair, gentle and deliberate, and I was aware of every place he was touching me and every place he wasn’t. His other hand was at my waist, teasing over the bare skin just above the line of my underwear.
The expression on his face in the firelight was desire laid bare, and it gave me a thrill to know he wanted me as I wanted him.
“Cara.”
He said my name like a prayer, as if I were a goddess and not a dusty-from-the-road mortal girl, tangled in his arms in this smoky-scented room. He said my name so convincingly I might have believed that with him, I was a goddess.
But a goddess he could not have, not tonight.
He pressed his forehead to mine. His hand was still in my hair. Neither of us moved away. “The bond.”
“Iknow,Fear.”
I kissed him again. Against his mouth, I asked, “How confident are you that as long as we stop short of you fucking me, the bond won’t pull us the rest of the way?”
“Gods,” he said, as if the wordfuckingon my lips was going to unravel him the rest of the way. “I’m confident. Have you ever known me not to be confident?”
“Fair point.”
“Everything except what would prevent Lightbringer’s claiming is a large territory, but a maddening line.”
“Maddening,” I agreed and kissed his jaw instead this time. The shadow across it was rough against my lips.
“I imagine crossing that line. Often.”
I smiled against his stubble as if I were not suffering the very same affliction. “How dreadful for you.”
“Often,” he said again, as if, with his usual commitment, he had decided a confession was to be made completely or not at all. “Every time you’re within reach. And every time you’re not within reach is worse. My mind is entirely occupied by you, and that shows no sign of abating.”
I felt the same, but it was easier for Fear to be vulnerable. “The timing of this confession is not your finest work.”
His lips ticked upward at the corners.
