7 #3
“It does,” he agreed, dragging his hands through the water in a slow caress.
As if he’d never taken the chance to really enjoy the sensation of water on his skin.
Then he continued, voice darkening as he beheld our domain, “You know, Esmer, if it weren’t for you, I would have rejected my role as Weaver as soon as it was thrust upon me.
Tonight’s reception was proof of that.” In the stillness of the night, some of my hair brushed against his arm, tickling it.
“All I’ve ever wanted in my life was freedom.
Freedom to create. Freedom to choose. Freedom to want something for myself.
” He turned sideways, regarding me seriously—and with a delicious bite of need that I relished.
“And to one day, perhaps, be wanted in return.”
Shadows threaded around us, as if they desperately wanted us to collide.
“Isn’t that what being a Weaver means, though? We have the freedom to create. To choose our paths and grow in our power.” Hesitantly, I touched Erebus’s arm, trailing my fingers across his pale skin. “To want and be wanted.”
“What is it that you want, Esmer?” he asked, his voice reduced to a low rumble.
Something fluttered deep in my stomach at the velvety pitch of his voice. It felt like a dare.
“I want to feel strong,” I admitted. “I want to be powerful enough to defeat Raelion and drive Corruption from Noctis once and for all. To bring the true perpetrators of this evil to justice.”
He interlaced our fingers. Shadows curled around our shoulders, coaxing us closer. “Our shadows will deliver the justice this kingdom needs. A lethal blade forged to protect those too powerless to wield their own. What else do you want?”
“I want to save Elliot. And I want to ensure Eden and my mother and father are safe… wherever they might be.” The words stumbled out, revealing every last lingering fear.
“That their souls are indeed at peace in the afterlife with the Maker and not trapped somewhere else in the Dream Realm. I don’t know if it’s possible, but I want to know. ”
“And you deserve to know,” he said quietly. “If I were in your place, I would want to know, too.”
His voice held no judgment, only understanding.
I exhaled, chest tingling as I studied him.
Erebus carried so much and still had room to offer me softness.
He wasn’t just offering superficial comfort, either; he was with me through my trials, understanding what it meant to lose everything and still hope.
His witnessing unraveled something inside me.
Maybe it would be foolish. Maybe it would ruin this tender moment. But I didn’t want to keep holding back. He was the one I trusted to stand beside me when everything else was falling apart, and Maker be good, I wanted him.
Nervously, I slid my eyes to his. “I also want you, Erebus.”
“Me,” he breathed, as if the word didn’t quite make sense in his mouth. His fingers brushed my cheek, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear with aching gentleness. “Even when each day is full of terrors?”
“Even then.”
He skimmed his fingertips just below my lower lashes. “The silver shadows in your eyes are twirling,” he noted, throat bobbing as he swallowed. “I’ve never seen them look so alive.”
For a moment, he just looked at me, something raw and unguarded flickering in his own eyes.
But then Sorren’s starry kaleidoscope suddenly twisted on its axis, transforming into a riot of new colors and shapes.
A flying bird bursting into flowers. A glorious moon melting into stars.
A ferocious wolf chasing a stag. Far below us, the dreamers erupted into an unexpected cheer.
Without thinking, I flinched.
It was impossible to make the dreamers out, high as we were, but their exclamations were clearly an expression of wonder, not fear. Still, the sound reminded me of something else. The ghost of what once were demonic screams.
Let us out! Let us out! Let us out!
Erebus flinched, too, eyes scouring our surroundings. Instinctively searching for danger or destruction. I loathed seeing pain in his eyes. The bitter remnants of five hundred years’ worth of torment.
“Erebus, look at me,” I insisted, cupping his jaw.
He obeyed, utterly broken. Emotions laid bare for me alone.
Desperate to distract him, I traced my hands down his arms, relishing how they felt.
I trailed them across his chest next, in awe of how powerful his body was.
How tall. His skin, normally so cold, was warm from the water and wet to the touch.
Goose bumps blossomed under my fingertips as he shuddered, a clear indicator of how I was affecting him.
“Is this okay?” I whispered, worried I was crossing some unspoken boundary. I hadn’t touched him like this before—not slowly, as if we had all the time in the world—and I didn’t want to rush him into new sensations he didn’t want.
“Yes,” he answered hoarsely, heat fanning across his pale cheeks.
Encouraged, I brought my hands from his chest to his stomach, palming his hips.
Clad in just low-slung silk pants, he twisted his waist, tilting to face me more fully.
Slowly, painstakingly slowly, he slid his hands around my hips, mirroring what I was doing with him.
Another bang bellowed from the sky—this time a great roaring lion that made the dreamers shout in excitement—and his hands instinctively clenched, bunching the chemise’s fabric.
“I’m sorry,” he breathed, realizing what he was doing.
He loosened his grip and the skirt of my chemise drifted up, exposing more skin. I thought he’d lift his hands away, but he surprised me by planting them more firmly. Slowly, hypnotically, he circled my hips with his thumbs. If he weren’t holding me, surely I’d melt beneath the surface.
“Is this okay?” He echoed my earlier question, a carnal, inquisitive plea.
I nodded, standing on my tiptoes, the space of a breath between our lips.
Daring him to close the distance. He moved without hesitation, gifting me with a deep, claiming kiss.
His thumb hooked against my chin, coaxing my jaw open, while his long fingers slid around my throat to graze the nape of my neck.
Maker, that feels good.
Our tongues met, mingling in a fervent dance between our mouths.
A helpless sound of pleasure escaped me, but I was too lost in him to care.
He deepened the kiss at my admission, pulling me flush to his body as I snaked my hands around his waist. It felt wonderful to touch and be touched, to want and be wanted.
I’d never felt like this before in all my life.
He made me feel cherished, beautiful, brave.
As though I were a ship in a gale and he were my steadfast anchor.
With him, it felt natural, a melding of two shadow-cursed souls who had yearned for each other long before we even met.
He pulled back, breathless. The shadows in his eyes were a deep, unsettling shade that made my toes curl. I’d never seen them so dark. “You never cease to remind me how good it is to be alive.”
“And how exactly do I remind you?” I asked teasingly, trying to act coy and in control.
As if I knew what I was doing. But in truth, I was starting to careen out of control.
I felt my face flush, knowing precisely where our bodies touched—and what, exactly, could be felt through the few clothes we wore.
The evidence of his desire. The firm lines of his stomach, hips, and chest as I pressed into him. “Indulge me, please,” I pleaded.
He lowered his mouth to my neck, warming it with his tongue.
“Through taste,” he murmured. He slid his nose up the column of my throat, ending in my hair.
“Through smell.” Next, he brought his hands past my hips, lightly skimming my ribs.
Tentatively grazing the skin just underneath my heart.
I shivered, wanting more. More of his careful touches, more of his sinful mouth—more of whatever he wanted to give.
“Touch. And sight,” he added roughly, his heat-filled gaze meeting my own.
I wasn’t sure what he saw in my eyes, but it sparked something wicked in his.
“You’ve set me free in more ways than one, Esmer Havenfall.
You are my liberation”—he pressed a kiss to my mouth—“and my undoing.”
Our movements became languid. Lazy, almost. Taking time to enjoy the sensations we evoked with every touch and taste, but never moving further than what our clothes contained.
And when we dried off in soft robes and tucked into our canopied bed, I felt as if we could, perhaps, conquer these next few days.
That we could be the Shadow Weavers we were summoned to be.
That we were destined to be.
Together.