Chapter 28 #3
Nico’s sharp stare tracked every move Desmond made as he helped Myrella lower into the rocking boat, the hem of her skirt dampening against the splattered wood. “Be careful,” he cautioned as she hopped across the seat toward the first row, his hawkish gaze tracking every move.
Fates, these Silventa men were protective.
“I’m fi—” Myrella’s words sliced off as she nearly slipped.
Desmond caught her, hands gripping her elbows and strong legs steadying their rocking before they capsized. Nico’s answering grumble rolled through the air and down Emmeline’s spine. “Des,” he warned.
“Fucking Fates,” Roremar swore from behind her. “Hurry up.”
Nico bit his tongue as Myrella and Desmond took off through the water, the boat gliding eagerly away with each sure stroke. Then, he stomped down the ladder and into their own waiting vessel.
“Are you ready?” Roremar’s voice was at her back, and when Emmeline glanced over her shoulder to respond, his face was mere inches from hers.
She inhaled sharply, his brows rising when she didn’t answer.
Fates, he was so close, his warmth pressed into her ribs, mingling with the chilled sea air in a tantalizing way, and everything they’d talked about on the balcony last night flooded back to memory.
Every secret shared and wanton look twisting through her now.
“Emmeline?” he asked.
Finding her croaking voice, she answered, “Yes.”
But as she descended into the rocking boat—Nico waiting below to help her, though her footing was steadier than most—she realized that while there were three benches, the middle one was damp and missing such a large chunk in the center, she wasn’t sure it could still be called a seat.
“A bit cramped in here,” she muttered.
Roremar’s added weight rocked the boat, waves splashing over the side. As if on instinct, his hand braced her back, and Emmeline arched at the touch against bare skin, chills spreading down her spine.
“It’s a short trip.” Even his voice was gruff.
Brooding, Nico dropped onto the front bench, taking up the oars and leaving…
Emmeline bit the inside of her cheek, her skin already flaming before Roremar even said, “Come here, Huntress.”
At least as she dropped onto the bench directly before him, pressed right between his thighs, he couldn’t see the way her face flushed.
Nico was little help in distracting her as they rowed to shore. Her body swayed with Roremar’s, leaning forward as he stroked, falling back against his chest with each movement like some intimate dance they shared.
It might have been a soothing rhythm if she wasn’t overly aware of every brush of his body against hers, every time his powerful thighs tightened. How his hands gripped the wooden posts and forearms flexed with every motion. Or the way something hard was beginning to press into her ass.
“You okay?” Roremar asked, voice strained.
“Never better,” she hummed.
His answering chuckle radiated down her spine, warmth spreading to every inch of her body.
Roremar’s breath brushed against her neck, a gasp trapping in her lungs as he asked, “Have you ever been to Alvan before?”
Emmeline swallowed. “I haven’t. I went to Byron and Epi when I first came to the isles but quickly returned to Lyra.” She’d intended to visit them all, but she’d been offered the job at the Academy, and she wasn’t able to turn that away.
The boat rolled over a wave, and unprepared, Emmeline slid back. Roremar grunted as she pressed against him, and she felt—
She stiffened, glancing over her shoulder.
And instantly regretted it.
His eyes were molten silver, just as they’d been beneath the stars on the balcony last night. They burrowed into her, heating her with something she couldn’t acknowledge.
The sea air wrapped his sandalwood scent tighter around them.
“Sorry,” she breathed, trying to scoot up, but the water was working against her, the ebb of the tide drawing her back. She rocked into the cradle of his hips, her hand fumbling against his thigh.
“Emmeline,” Roremar grunted as she unintentionally ground against him.
“Yes?” she croaked.
“For the love of the Fates,” he hissed, “stop squirming.”
“I’m sorry, I’m trying to get more room between—”
“No.” Roremar’s voice was threatening. “Don’t you dare move, Huntress.” Dark desire dripped through his every word. His command.
Though she’d seen the heady lust in his expression before, this was the first time she really believed it. The attraction she was trying not to acknowledge, the pull in her blood and warmth below her belly—Roremar clearly felt it, too. Daringly, she lifted her gaze to his.
Without breaking his stroke, Roremar held her stare.
Emmeline was frozen beneath it, hunger wrapping tight around her bones, stealing every thought she’d ever had. His hands were still firmly on the oars, not a finger even brushing her, and yet she felt him. Drowned in the silver of his eyes and the hum beneath her skin as he looked at her.
Yes, something within her tried to purr, prompting her to claim those salacious thoughts.
As if Roremar heard it, he dropped his lips to her ear. “What’s wrong, Emmeline?”
His breath fanned over her flesh, and she blamed her answering shiver on the salty spray of the sea. “Nothing,” she insisted. “I’m just not used to traveling by boat. It’s got me a bit…upset.”
“Upset?”
“Yes,” she forced out.
“Don’t worry, Huntress. We’re almost there. Then, you can…relax.” And Fates be damned, Roremar winked.
Whipping her head back around, Emmeline kept her eyes on the coast for the rest of the short ride. She forced herself to focus on the mission ahead, but her thoughts kept melting together, as if that silver gaze was starfire begging to incinerate every ounce of clarity she clung to.