He had no idea.
He crashed down onto her in a devouring kiss, and his tongue parted her lips. They both groaned as she matched his strokes, tangling her hands in his soft, ash-brown waves.
Leaving one hand gripped in her hair, he slid the other down her back, squeezing her ass and pressing their lower bodies together. She gasped into his mouth as she felt that delicious, enormous bulge poking her stomach, hot and hard and ready.
He made a low, rumbling sound as she wiggled against it, marveling at the size of him.
She sucked on his tongue, nipped at his lips, licked his fangs, delighting in his rain-drenched taste.
He broke the kiss to trail open-mouth pecks down her throat as he cupped and massaged her breast over her dress. Her nipples sharpened into aching peaks, her body throbbing a voracious chant.
Want. Want. Want.
Just as he was about to push the silky material aside, expose her eager flesh to his roving fingers, a howl rent the night.
They broke apart, both panting heavily.
“We need to get out of here.” He touched his forehead to hers. “It’s not safe.”
She nodded, acknowledging the wisdom. Though at the moment, she’d rather risk death by a thousand desert creatures than stop kissing him.
A crescent moon gilded the dunes as dusk’s lavender light slunk below the horizon. Shadows crept closer, drawn by either the pool or the scent of her blood.
“Sit back down,” he said, easing her into a sitting position. “Let me spread some healing balm onto your leg and wrap it.”
He lifted her ankle into his lap, shifting the hem of her dress up her thighs. His eyes followed it briefly before he refocused on her calf.
He rummaged through the sack and pulled out the tin, then massaged the balm onto her wound. She moaned as it cooled her heated, achy skin, and he shuddered at the sound before tearing a sleeve off his shirt and wrapping it around her calf.
He stood, offering her a hand up, and she was amazed at how normal her leg felt. Other than a dull ache, she was able to stand and walk perfectly. If humans were offering the Fae their memories, why were the Fae not returning the favor and offering humans their blood? She knew the answer to that question, but couldn’t help thinking the world would be so much better with a little reciprocity.
A burbling growl, closer than the howl, drifted over as Cael filled the canteen from the pool.
“Sorry we lost dinner,” he said. “If we walk through the night, we should be able to reach the foothills by morning where we can hopefully find food and some shelter.”
She nodded, flattening her hands across her grumbling stomach.
Cael placed Ker in the sack, his expression so disappointingly guarded after that explosive kiss. He didn’t even look at Xenia as he swept her into his arms.
And so began their final, silent trek through the Desolation.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-NINE
Cassandra woke in an unfamiliar bed, shrouded in darkness as comforting scents washed over her.
Clean, crisp sheets.
The ashy tinge of an extinguished candle.
The burnt vanilla aroma of bourbon.
And beneath them all, her favorite scent in the world—the one she treasured even more than her own.
Charred wood and ancient spice.
Tristan.
His hulking shape occupied the chair next to a bed that was twice the size of her own, covered in smoky gray linens with four wooden posts spiking towards the ceiling. Moonlight speared through the gauzy curtains and she wondered how many hours, how many days, she’d been out.
