“By all means, light away,” he challenged. “My cheeks won’t be the only things coming to light.”
She stiffened.
Even in the shadows, she couldn’t stop her eyes from taking in the parts of him she could see—the stretch of his broad chest and the fold of his muscled biceps—and imagining the parts she could not.
Mikaud had been her first. Together they’d explored each other, letting their bodies get the better of their minds. Before him, there had been a girl from the Bark with curls like vines of ivy and a mouth so dexterous she had thought she might drown in it. Nes had believed either of them could be the one she first fell for. But neither were.
Because here, now, was Toran, staring at her like she ought to know exactly what he meant, and she wanted nothing more than to find out if she was right.
She shouldn’t. Because this was Toran. And beyondwhohe was, there would always bewhathe was. A guard. The Crown.
But underneath that uniform, he was the one who’d kept his promise that day on the ocean. The one who’d rescued her from its depths. And the one who’d made her another promise now. She did not feel foolish for believing he’d keep it.
None of the rest mattered.
Nes didn’t feel herself sink to the floor, didn’t see him crouch down to her level. All she saw was Toran before her, saw him kneel between her legs. She reached for him, but he was already there. His lips, soft and supple, were heavy with promised rain as they came down on hers.
The kiss was worth the drought she’d endured to get here, to this moment. Worth all the times they’d turned away, letting the rest of the world settle itself between them. Now there would be nothing between them.
She drank him in with every touch, every drop of his mouth filling hers. This, this was what she’d been waiting for. Nothing else mattered save for Toran and this thirst he quenched with every fall of his lips on hers, every surge she sent right back.
And then he flooded her.
He was everywhere and nowhere. His lips were on hers and his hand was mapping routes through her tangled hair and it was under the hem of her shirt and at her neck and sinking lower. Though the buttons of her pants had come undone, her legs straddling him, it was one place his hands didn’t venture.
Her fingers scraped at the clasp of his cloak until she managed to snag it. It fell from his shoulders and pooled in a heap over the backs of his calves. She ran a hand down his torso, down between his legs, her fingers tracing the length of him.
Her shirt was gone in the next second, the fabric swishing as he pulled it over her head. The cold air was a whisper on her bare skin for only a moment before it was cut off by the words of Toran’s hands. Feeling her, speaking to her. They moved over her in a language she hadn’t known she spoke, forming sentences full of meaning against the lilt of her neck and along the accent of her hips. But shedidspeak this new language. And she shouted it back to him. For she responded in kind—her fingers, her mouth, her tongue swirling symbols across his skin.
She gasped when his fingers dipped lower and touched her the way she desperately wanted. Though his fingers were larger, rougher than her own, his strokes were smooth, precise, and she writhed under his hand.
More. She neededmore.
She wasn’t sure if Toran had slipped into her heart—if he had filled the hole in her chest as she’d always believed her father would—or if, because of him, she had simply forgotten the hole was there. There was a difference. And it mattered. But her voice was lost to his lips, with no hope of being found.
So she tore at his shirt, at the laces keeping him wrapped away, at the fabric hiding him from her. There was no point in lying anymore. Not here. Not now that she could feel him and he could feel her. These secrets were not meant to be kept. Not anymore. So they shared, tearing away layer after layer.
And then they were completely bare before each other, and even the walls stopped watching them. They didn’t need the bed. Their cloaks and clothes became the kindling beneath their fire as Nes wrapped herself around Toran and burned.
30
Toran
Toran had forgotten what happiness felt like.
Satisfaction pricked his every bone and joint. He felt buzzed, like he sometimes did after a few drinks, only this warmth filled his whole body, not just his stomach.
He wasn’t sure he deserved such a feeling.
Nes lay curled beside him, her breathing even but her eyes open. Her fingers charted veins across his bare chest. He kissed each of her knuckles before standing and crossing the room. He grabbed one of the blankets from the bed and returned to her, draping it over both of them. She sidled up to him until they were nose to nose, their knees alternating.
He fiddled with the frayed edges of the blanket, reliving how they’d come together. He hadn’t known it could be like that. When he held her, he’d felt hopeful. He felt like he’d been dangling himself over the edge these last few months and she had pulled him back to solid ground. And then they’d shattered. Not apart like glass but together, a breaking in reverse.
His cloak and clothes were still bunched beneath his body, a haphazard nest he didn’t want to leave. The girl beside him a mooring he didn’t want to release.
Outside, the raucous sounds of the Ditch tried to invade. In the castle, the outside world rarely intruded. Of all the moments he’d shared with Loriana, they’d never been interrupted. And suddenly, he wished he were back at the castle. Wished he could share a moment of isolated bliss with Nes.
He hoped life in the Ditch wasn’t as horrible as Nes described. He remembered how she’d looked in the distillery. Her bloodstained hands, her smudged legs, her unfazed lips.
