Her warmth bled through the fabric of her shift. He drifted in the faint rise and fall of her breath. The delicate tremor just beneath her skin.
She watched him. Not afraid. Not confused.
Open.
Waiting.
His thumb moved in a slow arc over the side of her hip. His chest rose, drawing a breath frayed at the edges.
“I shouldn’t…” he rasped, voice unraveling.
She tilted her head, silver hair tumbling over one shoulder. “Shouldn’t what?”
“Touch you like this.”
“But you already are,” she countered.
He closed his eyes for a moment, fighting the urge to pull her the rest of the way in. To bury his face in her neck. To kiss the hollow of her throat and taste the pulse dancing there.
“I’m not made for soft things,” he lamented, voice rough with the weight of the admission.
She moved closer—but not close enough. So, he did what instinct demanded. He reached up—hands guiding her hips—and tugged gently. Her breath hitched as she folded, her knees bending, one hand bracing on his chest. The space between them vanished.
Their foreheads met. His eyes closed. Her hand pressed against his heart.
“I burn too easily,” he murmured.
A confession.
A warning.
Maybe a plea.
She leaned into the contact, her nose brushing his, her breath whispering over his lips. Her voice came soft. Certain. “You always burn, Kailorien. I know because I lay beside you every night.”
He opened his eyes.
“What if…” she hesitated. It was the first time she did, and her cheeksflushed. “What if I want to burn with you? What if I want to remember the heat that lingers between skin? But with you…only with you.”
The look she gave him—Void, itruinedhim. There was no fear in it. No coyness. The sort of purity living somewhere between curiosity and quiet devotion. Shemeantit.
Not a seduction. A truth. Her hand slid upward—resting lightly on his jaw now. Her thumb brushed his cheekbone. And for a moment—one heartbeat suspended in time—he forgot everything else.
The war.
The rain.
The beast inside him.
All he knew washer.
He leaned in, close enough to breathe her in. Not to take. Not yet. Not when this moment was a vow. His lips hovered just above her skin. Then—like a touch of air against gossamer—he pressed a kiss to her temple. A glimpse of worship. A promise unspoken.
Her eyes were wide and the flush on her cheeks had darkened. Like a sunset spreading across white dunes.
“Auryn,” he breathed.
And then the tent flapsnappedopen.
