“What glyph are you searching for?”
His stare hardened. “Seek.”
“And what are you seeking?”
A muscle tightened in his jaw. He stood and went to his desk, rummaging around in a drawer until he pulled out a bottle of sweetstalk nectar and opened it, taking a gulp. The lack ofmemories from last night was enough of a deterrent against the immediate impulse to snatch the bottle and take a swig myself. A desperate craving to numb myself with the nectar still simmered under the surface.
“I’m looking for my parents,” he said.
I frowned. “Weren’t they aboard the lost Arc?”
“They were.”
“And…you think they’re still out there somewhere? Alive?”
Food and water rations aboard an Arc could only last for a few weeks. Even with rainwater supplementing their water rations, the creatures that lived in the miasma weren’t edible. The lost Arc had been missing for ten years.
“I don’t know.” He took a deep pull from the bottle, taking it with him as he moved toward the window. Watching his lip’s motion, my brain took a detour to Zevrial’s kiss and my temperature spiked. “It’s been a long time. I hope they’re alive. But I need to know what happened to them, either way.”
Up against the miasma’s faint backlit glow, oil lamp light hugged him like a lover.
Sympathy washed over me. He was clinging to a burning hope even as it blistered him. Dampening it with my own skepticism and doubt was unthinkable. Following him to the window, I put a comforting hand on his arm.
Even exposed and vulnerable, he still looked so unbearably strong. I tasted the aroma of petrichor wafting off him. Breathing deep, I let his scent envelope me. He caught my hand, interlacing his fingers with mine with his eyelids lowered as he set the bottle down. His dark irises were nearly lost within his pupils.
“What, no commentary?” His smile was self-deprecating. “No remark on how foolish I am for believing they could bealive?” He slid his free hand to my cheek, knuckles brushing my skin. I leaned into his touch.
My eyes locked with his. “Hope is never stupid.”
His lips crashed into mine with the ferocity of a storm. Desire drowned me at the taste of him. Stubble scraped against my lips as our tongues collided.
He tasted like stormy sin and heavenly heat all in one.
Threading my hands through his hair, I gripped him tightly to me. Pulling him closer, trying to kiss him deeper. I wanted more.
His hands slid down, kneading the back of my thighs. A moan broke past our lips as he leaned closer, tilting me backwards.
For a thrilling moment, I thought he was pushing me down to take me on the floor. Instead, he hefted me up with his arms. Wrapping my legs around his middle, I braced myself with my hands around his neck.
Throughout, he never stopped kissing me.
He carried me to the bed, tipping me until I landed on my back. I gasped for air, feverish with need as our lips broke apart. Staring up at him, I traced his jawline with my fingertip. My blood sizzled under my skin.
“Only if it’s still a yes,” he breathed, pulling away.
There was a forbidden threshold ahead, and I was racing across it. After this, there would be no denying the smoldering attraction between us.
He’d be insufferable. And I wanted every insufferable minute with him.
Arching up toward him, I wrapped my arms back around his neck. I pulled him so close our lips were touching as I whispered one word against his.
“Yes.”
His tongue plunged into my mouth, exploring me. Both his hands were making short work of my clothes, unfastening laces and stroking at exposed skin as he undid them. Undid me.
His decadent weight ground against me where our centers met. I moaned into his mouth. His knees fenced me in at the thighs, and I’d never enjoyed feeling trapped more. This was a cage of my choosing. And I chose this. I chose him.
Shivering heat chased its way down my arms. Tugging at his clothes, agitation grew when they didn’t collapse off him. Biting his lower lip, I molded myself against him, frantic with my need to feel more of him.
