One long and slick pass urged a moan from my throat. I lapped him back until Aire hummed and widened the kiss, allowing me to take over, my own tongue flexing between his lips. A battered noise rumbled from his chest, vibrating into mine as our tongues entwined.
Wrapping his arms tighter, Aire gathered me to him. I used to mock these kinds of embraces, reminiscent of a fairytale painting or one of those sonnets about courtly love. But this man had a skill for turning every sentimental moment into something raw, beautiful, and genuine.
So the kiss erupted. We rushed into one another. Nostrils flaring, arms clasping, we seized each other’s lips. His tongue raked against mine, our mouths grabbing, tugging.
At another teasing flick of my tongue, the remnants of Aire’s composure split. I grunted in encouragement as he spun us around, pressing me against a tree. His palms clasped the back of my skull, and his own tongue took charge again, whipping between my lips. His kiss hit a spot that had me raising a knee to flank his thigh, my cunt bucking into his pelvis. The seam between my legs throbbed, my pussy swelling as it pressed into the bridge of Aire’s cock.
The knight hissed with pain, affection, and every emotion that mattered. Our tongues pumped, and our lips molded tightly, as if they’d been forged for one another. Just like the rest of us.
This kiss stitched something inside me, a small rip I hadn’t realized existed. A wound that had been left gaping, bleeding slowly until now.
Love was one thing. But a will to live, breathe, age, fight, and die with this man. That was another, greater kind of bond.
One we’d never have.
A tattered sound climbed up my throat. It got as far as my tongue, rippling against Aire’s as his mouth tore mine to bits.
I wrenched myself from his lips. Then I burst through the solid band of his arms, scrambling backward with such force the axe jostled at my side.
His glassy eyes cleared from the spell. Panting, Aire loomed like a disheveled god, ashy blond hair in shambles, complexion flushed, neckline sagging to reveal the plates of his chest, which heaved for oxygen.
By the same token, his dark pupils strayed over my mussed locks and rumpled clothes. My mouth felt swollen, and my flesh baked under the foliage motifs.
We had charged at each other good. Yet it had been the most precious, passionate kiss I’d ever known.
From here, it could be more. Gentler. Sweeter. We could snare one another again, peel off our clothes, and—
“I lied first,” I wheezed. “I’m a traitor.”
Aire frowned through his arousal, confusion giving way to fondness. “Aspen,” he murmured affectionately, “lying does not make you—”
“It does.” My shaky lips moved in quick succession, bulldozing through this moment before I could pace myself. “I’m a liar. I’m a traitor,” I repeated, then dragged my eyes to his. “I’m a spy.”
A mystified scoff burst from Aire’s lips, his expression nonplussed. He waited for the punchline, even though this soldier hated jokes and would never expect me to make a cheap jibe at a time like this. And because of that, his mystification died in seconds.
Silence pulled between us like rope, thick and coarse. Whatever he saw lingering on my face confirmed the rest.
Aire’s features slackened. He moved forward, but then halted. “What are you saying?”
His eyes leaped from one corner of my features to the other. He searched every crevice, ready to believe whatever I told him, expecting to forgive it.
Even now, this man trusted me.
The ground slanted under my boots. Seven years of deception stung my lips.
“The spy Nicu talked about,” I prompted. “It’s me.”
And now Aire’s features collapsed. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m working for Rhys.” A dilapidated noise threatened to crack from my throat, but this wasn’t about my guilt. This moment only had room for one person to feel hurt, and I wouldn’t take that from him. “I’ve been working for Rhys for a long time.”
And finally, I told him. It came out like an avalanche, rocks tumbling from their chinks, pulverizing their way to the bottom.
Reaper’s Fest, when my hatchet pinned Rhys to the pyre. The grudge he nursed afterward, as well as his interest in my skills, given my history with the Masters.
My mother. The king’s threat on her life.
Years of spying. Years of learning his methods. Years of becoming a double agent, trying to free myself from his clutches, to pry information from him, and to protect the clan. All while, feeding Rhys information sometimes, then misleading him other times.
