Inside, there was only the sound of their heavy breathing. The air around them crackled with possibility, a raw nerve alive with promise. They had the power to change everything, to control the Counseil. Elara had Faucher, Tremblay, and Perrault in her pocket. With Lafontaine, she’d control the Senate.
She’d control Anespérer.
Nik would make it happen.
They stared at each other, bodies trembling with what he hoped was the same hunger.
A hunger for change, to be something more than what anyone believed they could be. Two Restes orphans ready to spark a… revolution.
“I know Souverain wasn’t your goal, but—”
She crashed upon him like paint to a canvas.
The kiss was hard, her mouth warm and inviting as she melted against him. She threaded her fingers into his hair, tugging at the base just hard enough to make him groan into her.
This was real.
And he wouldn’t waste another moment.
He broke upon her with equal force, cradling her neck with his fingers, pressing them into her soft skin. He met each stroke of her mouth and tongue with his own, eager to take whatever she offered before she pulled away.
She never did.
With a quick spin, he pressed her back against the counter, then helped her up so he could slot himself between her open knees. He didn’t deserve to be let in, to be so close, but damned if he wouldn’t steal it all while he could.
They fit together. Complementary shapes and colors, equal parts shadow and light.
Thunder crashed outside as Elara shoved at his coat.
He ripped it off.
She turned her attention to his shirt.
He removed it too.
At some point, she was out of her coat and fumbling with the buttons of her dress.
Nik took hold of them. “May I?”
She nodded.
He made a ritual in revealing every inch of skin she gifted him, down, down, down. Until she was glowing in the slats of dim light, body soft in the flickers of lightning. He was finally able to lay eyes on the tattoo etched into her chest: a matchstick. Simple, clean, and ready to burn.
“You’re beautiful,” he breathed.
Her fingers explored his chest. The scars that charted his life. “So are you.”
When they kissed this time, it was slow. He traced every curve and edge, painted even the most intimate places with his kisses, and etched the details of her body into his memory.
Tomorrow, he would tell her his final truths.
Tomorrow, he could be truly worthy of her kisses.
Tonight, he would love and let himself be loved.
34ELARA
They spent the night behind the bar. Nik had scavenged around the neighborhood and brought them back wine, a bit of cheese, and some stale bread for dinner. They talked, not entirely of their plans, until the bottle was empty and they’d devoured every crumb.
