CASPIAN #2
He shivers and grumbles under his breath but turns into me.
I revel in the knowledge that he’s not shying away from the intimacy of curling up together.
I yank him closer and his eyes drop to my lips.
I close the few inches separating us and suck his lower lip into my mouth, dragging it through my teeth.
He groans softly. I bite down, and the sharp intake of his breath is everything.
His hips press into mine and his hand grabs a fistful of my hair and drags me closer, kissing me in the unrelenting way that speaks of a desperation to be one.
I can’t fucking get enough of this man—his kiss is electrifying and I can feel myself grow hard, my cock pressing against his thigh.
He drags my leg over his hip and shoves against me, his cock slides over mine still covered by way too much clothing.
His hand rests on my face and as his thumb brushes over my skin, the fierceness of his kiss says more words than he could ever speak.
And lately, there have been a few words I’ve definitely wanted to say to him, but the idea of spooking him scares me into silence.
Not to mention the unknown of what’s to come.
What happens after this? What happens when we get out of here and have to go back to reality?
I don’t know the answers. So instead of speaking, I put all my emotions into my kiss, into my touch, and into the small looks filled with all the intensity I don’t dare say aloud.
For now that will just have to be enough.
In the early morning hours, I wake up and realize sometime during the night I’ve wrapped myself up in Blackwell.
My arm is draped across his chest with one leg wedged between his.
His lips are in my hair, soft breath brushing against my temple as he sleeps.
I don’t want to get up, convinced his heartbeat under my cheek is what kept the shadows at bay, because for once the nightmares didn’t visit me.
I reluctantly extract myself from his arms and slip from the tent.
My breath fogs in the air immediately, and the chill sinks into my bones, even through my layers of clothing.
I nod to the two men on watch before heading off across the room to take care of the call of nature.
Part of the hall we’re in has crumbled away, leaving it open to a vast labyrinth of ruins and fallen towers.
From where I stand, I can see across a large part of the fortress.
The ice glistens, and a single shaft of light streams down from far above my head where there’s a large gap in the ground above me.
It cuts through the air and lands amidst another small garden preserved through the ages.
It’s beautiful and haunting—speaking to a part of me that expands across time and space, and connects me to the humanity of this place.
I don’t know how long I stand there, taking it all in with a heavy reverence, when I feel a presence at my shoulder and Blackwell steps up beside me.
“I can’t believe it’s real,” I say in a low tone.
“Your conviction was pretty believable.”
“That’s what I do, Captain. I inspire confidence,” I say dryly.
The ghost of a smile crosses his face.
“You didn’t believe me,” I scoff.
He frowns, looking disturbed by the comment. “It’s not that I didn’t believe you—I was just beginning to doubt the legitimacy of the information you had.”
My laugh is nothing more than a breath. “Same thing.”
“Only because you decided it was a good idea to burn the map.” His tone is tinged with amusement.
I chuckle. “Yeah, there are times I regret doing that,” I admit. “But then I remember the chances of you recovering it when you captured me would have been high, and I’m glad I didn’t risk that ,” I say with emphasis.
“To think where we’d be if that had happened,” he teases.
“Dead,” I deadpan. He looks over at me, humor dancing in his eyes and I can’t help but grin. “I’d be dead. You’d have absolutely killed me—”
“You don’t know that,” he insists.
I throw my arm around his shoulder. “You’re right—I probably would have still charmed you into keeping me.”
I can tell he’s trying to hold back his smile, but he fails and I’m gifted with another rare sighting of just how striking he looks when he’s not scowling.
It brightens his face and makes me want to drag him back into our tent.
Our humor fades and we let the beauty of our surroundings settle over us once more.
“All this death and ruin. Do you think it means something if no one remembers it?”
“It mattered to them—once,” Blackwell says.
“Enough for them to die for it.”
“Wouldn’t you?” He glances at me. “Would you die for Foxhollow?”
Would I die for them? Yeah—I think I would. As much as I think of Fox as being a persona, a mask used to hide from my brother and father, I also know that those people deserve someone to fight for them. Someone to stand up for them. I wouldn’t want to see that destroyed.
“That’s what this is all about, isn’t it?” I give him a small smile. “Stealing the gold so I can continue to resist tyranny—and you can complete your annihilation of your enemies.”
Blackwell’s attention focuses solely on me, a thoughtful expression on his face mixed with something deeper. His eyes are intense black pits, reflecting the occasional flash of ice when they catch the meager light streaming in from above.
He tilts his head, his intensity searing. “Is it still only about the gold?”
The smile stays on my face as I turn back to the view, my hand slips into his and I lace our fingers together.
“No, I don’t think it is, Captain.”