CHAPTER SEVEN #2
Leaning in, Evylin drew the tip of her nose along his and whispered, “The power to dominate my every thought.”
The slow, gentle touches were no longer enough.
Deckard closed the gap between them, his hands gripping her arms as his lips met hers.
She responded with the same desire and enthusiasm, her fingers sliding up his neck and into his hair.
Most often, their kisses began softly and cautiously.
Now, after the past several minutes of skin-on-skin touches and flirtations, neither wasted time on such gentility.
Eager to get on with the venture that lay before them, Deckard’s hands wandered while hers cradled his head, keeping their kisses deep and impassioned. The tingle of magic met him, coiling low in his gut, present but patient as though satiated by her touch.
It didn’t take long for their activity to conclude, their embrace fierce as they gasped against one another’s skin.
Despite their limited experience, Deckard had surmised that it was the most pleasurable, frustrating sensation in the world, so wonderful and consuming that he clung to her, desperate to hold onto the feeling for as long as he could.
Evylin angled her head to kiss his neck, sending a renewed shiver through him. He tightened his grip on her thigh. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “But you’re pressing your luck.”
Her laughter tickled his ear. “Really?” she whispered back, kissing her way to his mouth once more. Their lips met with a kiss that drew out his groan. “I hadn’t thought you’d be done with me yet.”
“While I would love to comply, I’m afraid you’ll have to be a bit more patient than that.”
“Patience is your strong suit, not mine.”
He raised his brow. “I’ll have to teach you, then.”
With some coaxing and explanation, Deckard convinced Evylin to sit up with him. He hurried to grab two of his shirts from the wardrobe to help with the cold, then returned to enfold her in his arms. He leaned against the headboard as she leaned against his chest, their fingers interlocked.
“Do you know how much I love you?” he asked, sure that she did.
“Yes,” Evylin said, pressing closer to him. “Because it’s how much I love you, an immeasurable amount.”
“There would never be a number high enough.” He bent forward to kiss her with quick and gentle pressure before resting his head back.
Evylin smiled and began playing with the plain, platinum wedding band on his finger.
They sat in contented silence, enjoying each other’s company as they so rarely were able to do.
Even if they had been this comfortable in their marriage from the outset, moments like these were few and far between, particularly since joining the Calders.
Deckard had always hoped for a romance like theirs—one that felt easy, secure, and passionate. He no longer feared driving Evylin away with his love; he knew she no longer feared giving hers to him. After all this time, they were finally confident in their united affection.
“Jonn,” Evylin said, her head propped against his shoulder, “are you worried?”
Deckard couldn’t help his bemused smile. “There’s a lot to be worried about these days,” he said. “Are you referring to any specific issue? Or am I to be generally worried?”
She gave a soft, half-hearted laugh. She’d taken his left hand in both of hers as she continued to twist his ring. Used to her habitual tugging on her own rings, he grinned, knowing she’d turned to him in her concern. “I’m referring to tonight,” she said.
“You mean, am I worried about Bonding?” he surmised.
“Yes.”
He pressed a kiss to her temple. “No, I’m not worried about that.”
She turned her face up to him. “Not at all?”
“What do I have to be worried about?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “But that’s the problem, isn’t it? We don’t know anything about Bonding. Yet, we’ve agreed to it without asking for an explanation.”
Deckard hadn’t considered that particular detail.
He knew what the Calders said of Bonding—it was the height of a Warrior and Mage’s achievements.
It made them stronger, enhancing their powers.
A side effect he didn’t care for, but a helpful one in their present situation.
It was an oath of trust, fusing their souls to become one power, mind, and heart—an acceptable, if strange, outcome.
A Bond was an unbreakable vow more venerated than marriage.
He couldn’t quite comprehend that but was perfectly willing to accept it.
With a flick of his wrist, Deckard caught Evylin’s hand and laced their fingers together once more. “It doesn’t matter,” he promised. “Whatever it requires, whatever it does to us, I don’t care because it means I can take care of you and love you for the rest of our lives.”
“Which will be centuries, apparently,” she said sourly.
“It seems so.”
Evylin drew away just enough to look at him. “It will make our magic stronger.”
Deckard cocked his head. “Why are you pressing me? Do you want me to be upset, to stop the ceremony from happening?”
“No, I just—” Evylin sighed. “I don’t know. I’m just afraid my impulsive decision is going to drive a wedge between us.”
“Evie,” he cupped her cheek, drawing her close again, “nothing will come between me and my love for you. Not even magic.”
“And what about the Deep?” she whispered.
Deckard flinched. He’d forgotten about the Deep, the madness that could afflict a Night Mage.
Ilain assured him that not all Night Mages succumbed to the Deep’s hold, but Auden was certain he would.
After unintentionally summoning a ghost, Deckard already seemed stronger than he should have been, given his experience and training.
And that didn’t bode well for his sanity.
“Well, that’s why I need to meet with the highlord that Isla mentioned,” Deckard concluded. “If he’s truly able to help train me, surely he’ll be able to help me avoid that fate too.”
Evylin sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, her hesitation clear. “And . . . what about Hewitt?” she asked.
That made Deckard pause. “He asked that I release him,” he said gently. “If Highlord Obel can teach me how . . . I feel I must honor his request.”
“We leave tomorrow,” she said.
Deckard waited, unsure where she was taking the conversation.
“If this highlord teaches you how to release him,” the faintest glimmer of sorrow shone in her eyes, “will you do it immediately?”
“As promptly as I can,” he confirmed. When her chin dipped, he added, “But not before you’ve had the chance to say goodbye.”
She let out a relieved breath, leaning into him once more. “Thank you.”
Deckard held her close, whispering, “Always,” against her temple.
They remained there for some time, breathing and existing together.
Deckard closed his eyes, relishing the moment that had felt so impossible only days ago.
Her soft hair tickled his cheek. She smelled of the faintest, exotic vanilla from the oils after her bath, a departure from the typical scent of loam, grass, and sweat from their travels.
Somehow, he couldn’t decide which he preferred.
In Deckard’s mind, Evylin was vaster than reality.
She was grander than anything Terraeus could be worthy of.
Luxurious perfumes were a worthy, if meager, means of displaying her magnificence.
And yet, Evylin was also wild. She was a Warrior, at one with the terrae and the world around her.
To mask her natural scent was to dampen her, diminish her.
Evylin’s fingers trailed from Deckard’s hand to his wrist. “Jonn?”
“Hm?”
“Do you want to know why I asked to Bond with you?”
“Do you want to tell me?” He felt her nod against his shoulder. “Tell me, then.” Deckard loosened his grip to let her turn to face him. The morning light gilded her cool brown hair.
“Well, yesterday,” she began, her eyes on his collar, showing her embarrassment, “I was thinking about everything—you know, about the Alliance, your promise to Auden, about Blount, and . . . all those things. And I wondered, what would I say if the Alliance asked us to Bond?”
He wrapped his arm around her waist as she played with a button on his shirt. “In that moment,” she continued, “I realized I’d say yes because Bonding with you would be a privilege. What’s more, it would make me happy—very happy—knowing I’d get to spend nearly two centuries at your side.
“So there we were in the meeting, and they were worried about Blount, and I thought, why are we fighting this? The answer was so obvious. I couldn’t stay behind because we have to win this war; we have to defeat Blount.
Still, they were right. We couldn’t risk him taking me.
Even if it didn’t give him power immediately .
. . I would have given in. One day, perhaps after decades of torture, I would have. And I couldn’t risk that.”
Finally, Evylin met Deckard’s gaze. “So it seemed the only answer left was the one I wanted most anyway.” She smiled. “Because I want a life with you, Jonn, not just a few months. And it seems to me that Bonding is the best way to ensure that.”