Chapter 35
THIRTY-FIVE
Eirabella
“You are going to be the absolute star of the ball,” Brienne sighs as she tucks the final pin into the intricate hairstyle she’s spent an hour perfecting. Considering the ball is to honour Selene and me for advancing in the Keeper trials, I had agreed to letting Brienne primp and preen me to within an inch of my life.
“I wish you were coming with me, Brienne. You’re the only reason I don’t look like a pig farmer coming in from the mess yard, considering it’s how I feel,” I tell her as I admire myself in the mirror.
My gown is a deep, midnight blue, adorned with tiny crystals that sparkle with every movement, like stars against a night sky. The lace-looped bodice is made of the finest silk that encourages my breasts into an impressive swell, as well as cinches my waist, giving the illusion of curves where I have none. The fabric flows around me as I twist, soft and luxurious, making me feel both elegant and powerful.
Mathis stands on the threshold of my room, staring unblinking. I reach out to pinch him and he barely moves.
Brienne giggles in the background and says, “I told you, Lady Eirabella.”
I screw up my nose at her. “Are we back to that? It’s just Eira, remember?”
Mathis comes to life and bows as deeply as I’ve seen him bow to the king. “No, tonight, looking like this, you are most definitely Lady Eirabella .” He gallantly offers me his arm. He’s looking as handsome as I’ve seen him, in a light blue tunic and dark blue trousers, his dark brown hair slicked back, showing the high cheekbones and warm blue eyes. “Rylan asked me to come fetch you. He wanted to come himself but he has some princely duties to attend to. And I can’t say that I’m not glad that he did. Shall we?”
I take his arm with a shy smile and feel like a giggly adolescent as he feeds me compliments and flirtatious jokes as we walk through the castle’s hallways. The moment I enter the grand ballroom, I can feel eyes turning toward me, whispers following in my wake. But instead of shrinking under the attention as I normally would, I lift my chin, determined to enjoy this moment.
The ballroom is filled wall to wall with nobility, dressed in their most opulent dresses and tunics, sparkling glasses of champagne in their hands. Trays of treats carried by an army of servers dot the swarm of guests. The dance floor moves almost in unison to the music, and my feet itch to join them.
Then I see him—Rylan, my prince, my mentor, my who-knows-what —standing among a cluster of young court ladies and their mothers, all vying for his attention, their brightly coloured gowns swirling as they laugh too loudly at whatever conversation they’re forcing. He’s dressed in a sleek black coat trimmed with silver, the crisp white shirt tailored perfectly to his form, accentuating the broad lines of his shoulders and the lines of his corded muscles beneath. The dark material catches the soft candlelight, showing off his quiet aura, as if the very air around him bends to his will. I wouldn't be surprised if it did. Such is his innate power.
His dark hair is tousled just so, the kind of effortless perfection that hints at rebellion against the strict grooming expected of a crown prince. It’s wild yet controlled, as if he’s constantly balancing between the disciplined heir to the throne and the restless man underneath. The sharp angle of his jawline is softened slightly by the faintest shadow of stubble, adding a ruggedness to the otherwise polished appearance.
His eyes, dark and piercing, flicker with quiet observation, but beneath the surface, there’s a restless energy, a palpable disinterest in the simpering conversation around him. The ladies preen and flutter, but he looks completely and utterly bored. His gaze drifts over the room, unfocused, as if searching for someone.
The sight of him utterly steals my breath. For me, his beauty is unmatched. And there’s nowhere and no one else my eyes wish to lay upon. My heart beats faster, and I can’t help but feel the heat rise to my cheeks. He’s handsome—devastatingly, inhumanly handsome —in a way that feels almost unreal. The kind of handsome that makes you question everything you’ve ever known. His mere presence commands the space effortlessly, making the room seem smaller around him. And all I want is to flock to him like a sacrificial moth to his searing flame.
A pang of uncertainty, sharp and sudden, grips me, and a flicker of doubt worms its way into my thoughts. What if he sees me the way he sees them—just another silly girl trying to catch the prince’s eye, vying for a sliver of his attention?
I swallow hard, my chest tightening. I’ve never wanted to be part of that game, yet standing here, seeing him like this, I wonder if I’ve already become a nameless piece on his chessboard.
Then he moves his head to the left and his eyes finally find mine, and everything, everything… shifts.
The noise of the room—the chattering ladies, the clinking of glasses, the music—fades away, melting into the background as if it never existed. His eyes, which had been dull with disinterest, suddenly flare with a white-hot intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. There’s no mistaking it—he was searching for something and he found it. He found me .
In that single moment, the tension in his posture melts, replaced with purpose. His gaze locks onto mine, unwavering, and I feel the fixed focus of it—intense, consuming, as if I’m the only person in the room. His lips twitch into the slightest hint of a smile, a private expression meant only for me, and the air crackles, charged with something neither of us has to name.
Without a word, he steps away from the women, ignoring their disappointed groans and whispered protests. The court ladies reach out, their delicate hands grasping at the space he’s left behind, but Rylan doesn’t even glance back. His entire focus is on me, as if nothing else exists. And for me, nothing else does.
Moving with the kind of powerful confidence that sends my heart racing, he cuts through the crowd like a force of nature. I hold my breath, knowing I won’t let it go until he’s reached me. The amber flecks in his eyes flare with a heat that threatens to burn to ashes anything that gets in his way as he looks at me like I’m the only one who matters—like I’m the reason he’s here. The look in his eyes leaves absolutely no doubt.
And when he’s finally standing in front of me, all I can do is stare up at him, drinking in his presence.
“Thank you, Mathis. I think I can take it from here,” he says, addressing his friend, but never taking his eyes off me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mathis step away, but I can’t tear my gaze away from Rylan’s to make sure.
One hand behind his back, the other held out for mine, Rylan bows, low and deep, the playful little smirk still on his lips. I gently slip my hand into his and gasp softly as he drops a featherlight kiss to my fingertips before reluctantly letting them go.
“You’re late, disciple ,” he says, his voice low and teasing. “I was beginning to think you had decided there was somewhere you preferred to be.”
“Actually, mentor , I was early. You’ve just been too busy to notice me,” I reply, lifting an eyebrow playfully and poking my tongue out at him.
“Maybe it just feels like you’re late,” he counters, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “considering how long I’ve been waiting for you.”
“And how long would that be, my prince?” I ask, playing along, though my heart is beating so fast I’m sure he can hear it.
“Longer than you can possibly imagine, Eirabella,” he murmurs, leaning in to me, his voice dropping to a volume that almost feels confessional, as if he’s imparting his deepest, darkest secrets.
The playful banter, the ease with which we fall into this rhythm feels so natural, so effortless, and yet there’s an underlying crackle of anticipation that makes my pulse quicken.
“Would you do me the absolute honour of dancing with me?” Rylan’s hand is held out again, the offer lingering between us like a promise.
I place my hand in his again, and his grip is warm, firm, as he leads me to the dance floor. The whispers around us grow louder, but I push them aside, focusing only on the man before me.
The music swells as we begin to dance, a soft, lilting melody that carries us across the floor. I don’t know the steps, but no one would know it. Rylan’s hand rests on the small of my back, guiding me with a confidence that makes everything feel effortless. We move in perfect harmony, our bodies attuned to the rhythm of the music, as if we’ve been dancing together all our lives. It’s as if we’re the only two people in the world, the rest of the ballroom fading away as we lose ourselves in the movements.
“Have I told you how proud I am of you?” Rylan’s voice is low, intimate, meant only for me. “You did it.”
My heart skips a beat at his words, but I manage to keep my composure. “You didn’t doubt me, did you?”
“Not for a moment,” he says, his gaze locking onto mine, filled with an intensity that takes my breath away. “There’s truly no one like you, Eira. Amongst all the other attributes, your kindness knows no bounds. And everyone saw it today.” If Brienne had not been tittering about it, I would not have known he meant how I had helped Doran. To me, it is simply what anyone else would’ve done. Well, maybe not Selene…
Nevertheless, his words make my heart swell, and I find myself drawn even closer to him, my breath catching as I feel his hand travel up to skim the bare skin of my exposed back. “You’re just saying that because I’m your disciple,” I tease, though my voice trembles with the emotions swirling inside me.
“I’m saying it because it’s true,” Rylan insists, his tone serious. “You’ve accomplished so much these last three months. I feel honoured to have been there to witness it.”
The sincerity in his voice, the way he looks at me right now as if I’m the most important person in the world—it’s overwhelming . The connection between us is palpable, a magnetic pull that draws us closer with every step, every breath.
As we continue to dance, Rylan’s hand tightens on my waist, pulling me so close I can barely tell where he ends and I start. His eyes never leave mine, and the desire churns, dark and deep in them. I feel as though I’m teetering on the edge of something profound, something that could change everything.
“Gods, you are so fucking beautiful, Eirabella,” he whispers, his lips brushing against my ear.
“Rylan...” I begin, my own voice barely above a whisper, but the rest of my words are lost as he dips his head lower, his breath warm against my cheek.
“You have no idea what you do to me, Eira,” he murmurs, his voice filled with a raw honesty that sends shivers down my spine.
My eyes flutter shut as his lips brush against my skin, so close to a kiss that I can almost taste it—
“Rylan, the king wishes to speak with you.”
Elara’s voice spears through our closeness like an icicle, jagged and cold. I jerk back from him, but Rylan simply stiffens, holding me tight, his eyes flashing with frustration as his gaze shifts to his sister.
“In a minute,” he says, his voice tight with barely concealed irritation.
“Father was quite insistent,” Elara replies, her lips tight. “He’s waiting for you.”
Rylan’s jaw clenches then he sighs. Nodding to his sister, his eyes then flick back to mine. “Wait here for me, okay?” he says softly, running his thumb over my jaw. “I won’t be long. ”
I nod, and he holds my gaze for another moment, as if reluctant to leave. Then I watch as he follows Elara across the ballroom to where the king is standing with a few noble families, each of their daughters looking as though they’ve stepped out of a portrait. My heart sinks as I watch Rylan being introduced to each of them, the king’s approval clear as he speaks to the parents. Rylan bows as each young woman prettily curtsies with a grace that I could never even hope to emulate.
“They’re all incredibly accomplished, as well as beautiful, of course,” a cold voice says beside me, and I turn to see Julietta standing there, her expression cool and assessing. “Noble families with strong connections, they’re schooled in languages, culture, arts, diplomacy. Exactly the kind of women the king, and kingdom, wants for Rylan.”
“Must hurt,” I say, not bothering to hide the edge in my voice, “that the king feels like you’re not the one for him. That he needs to keep scouring the realm for someone to better fit Rylan.”
Julietta’s eyes narrow, bitterness crossing her face. “You think you’re clever, don’t you?” she hisses, her voice low and venomous. “You’re nothing compared to any of us. And Rylan will realise that soon enough.”
She storms off, the sting of her words sharp in my chest. I glance back at Rylan, who is still engaged in conversation with the women, and suddenly I feel small, insignificant, like the peasant Julietta likes to remind me I am, like I don’t belong in this world of royalty, wealth, and power. Rylan’s world. The gown that had made me feel so beautiful now feels like a poor imitation of the elegance around me.
“Don’t listen to her,” a friendly voice says, and I look up to see Caelum standing beside me, his expression full of understanding. “You’re worth dozens of any of them, Eirabella. Your brain alone makes you special. After all, none of them could have figured out that the map in our last puzzle wasn’t leading to a place, but to a moment in time.” He winks and lifts his eyebrows as he makes an exaggerated show of looking me up and down. “Not to mention that you look utterly delectable tonight.”
His words bring a small smile to my lips, easing the tightness in my chest. “Thank you, Caelum. I needed to hear that.”
“Why don’t we get some air?” he suggests, offering his arm. “You could use a break from all this. There’s, uh, actually something I wanted to show you.”
I glance back at Rylan, who is still engaged with the noblewomen, then nod, taking Caelum’s offered arm. “Yes, I’d like that.”
We walk out into the cool night air, the noise of the ballroom fading behind us. The gardens are lit by the soft glow of lanterns, the scent of flowers heavy in the air. The colours of the queen’s stained glass windows from the chapel paint the garden in orange, greens, and blues. For a moment, I allow myself to breathe, to let go of the anxiety that had been building inside me the moment Elara had interrupted us.
“So, Caelum,” I start, glancing at him cautiously, “what did you want to show me?”
He chuckles softly, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Perhaps I wanted to have the most beautiful woman in the ballroom all to myself.”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”
“Oh, I’ve found that to be utterly untrue,” he admits with a grin. But then his expression turns more serious, and I can see he needs some time to prepare himself for what he’s about to say.
We walk for a few moments more before we come to a bench and he gestures for me to join him on it. As I settle my skirt around me, he drapes his jacket around my shoulders .
“Always the gentleman,” I tease him.
“No, I just was too warm and got sick of wearing it myself,” he jokes. “Just kidding, reach into that right pocket.”
Intrigued, I slide my finger into his coat pocket and pull out a folded piece of parchment.
He tilts his chin to my hand, “I meant to show you that the night my cousin was waiting for you outside your door. And we haven’t had another moment since,” he says, his voice soft, almost hesitant. “It’s from the queen... my aunt. She left it for me. There’s a part in there where she talks about you.”
I blink, taken aback. The queen wrote about me? My heart stumbles for a moment, and the parchment, cool and delicate in my fingers, shakes.
“She thought very highly of you,” Caelum adds, his voice steady but filled with warmth. “I just thought you should know. Please. I’d like you to read it.”
I unfold the letter, my eyes scanning the familiar script of the queen’s handwriting. Between reminders of her love for him and some none-too-vague words to take care of his cousins, my name appears, and I feel a slight tremor run through me.
“Continue your friendship with Eirabella. She is someone truly special, warm and kind, and her unique perspective is one you’ll dearly need in this difficult, sheltered life of yours, my dearest nephew. A friend who will tell you the truth is a gift we do not all receive. Your joint love of puzzles will be beneficial to you both. Don’t let go of that. Which is why I've left one for you. Perhaps you can ask our future Aquilith to help you. And maybe you will think of me and my own love of puzzles as you two figure it out together.”
The words hit me like a soft wave of warmth and sorrow all at once. The queen, in all her wisdom and grace, had thought of me in her final days.
“She saw things in people that others missed,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, tinged with sadness. “Or at least, she saw things in me when no one else bothered to even look.”
“She really did,” I reply, my voice thick with emotion. I reread the letter, my heart swelling with both gratitude and curiosity. “A puzzle?”
Caelum chuckles at my obvious piqued interest. “Apparently, she left me something to solve. And she seemed to think you’re the one to help me. I haven’t found it yet, but when I do, I’ll be looking for you.”
Leaning over, I press a soft kiss to his cheek, my hand gently touching his arm when I simply say, “Thank you,” my voice quiet but sincere. “For showing me this. It means more than you know.”
He just nods and is about to say something when I hear footsteps coming toward us. I turn to see Mathis approaching, a warning look on his face.
“There you are, Eira,” he says, his eyes trying to signal something to me. “Apparently, someone is looking for you.” His tone suggests he knows exactly who.
Before I can pull back from Caelum, I see Rylan striding toward us, his expression dangerous and brooding. There’s no mistaking the outrage in his eyes, and my heart skips a beat, the relaxed atmosphere shattering in an instant.
“Caelum, maybe you’d like to join me for a drink inside? I hear Lord Banbury’s daughter is looking particularly fetching tonight,” Mathis suggests, clearly trying to diffuse the tension.
Caelum, ever the antagonist, smirks and casually lays one hand on the small of my back and the other on top of my hand still resting on his arm. “Actually, I think I’m already with the most fetching woman here.” He stands and takes my hand, helping me to my feet. “Now, if Eirabella would like to join me for a drink…”
Rylan steps forward, danger surging from every inch of his body as he menacingly glowers at his cousin. “She’s not ‘fetching,’ you complete clod of a man.” His gaze sharpens, and the words that follow are drenched in raw emotion. “She’s a fucking goddess. Can’t you see that? Do you even have any idea of the absolute privilege you have of knowing her?” His eyes lock on mine, and I stop breathing. His voice lowers as he says, “When she looks at you, it’s like she cradles the light of the stars in her eyes and the intense fire of the sun in her heart. With every word she utters, she pulls the world closer, and it holds its breath, awaiting the addictive pleasure of her sweet smile. She’s divinity itself, something mere mortal words could never capture.”
His eyes refuse to move from mine, as if I am the only thing that exists. And for me, all else but the look in his eyes, falls away. “But beyond her unearthly, her ungodly beauty, she embodies a kind of strength that forever bends but never breaks. There is more courage infused in a single twinkle of her eye than is needed to lead an entire kingdom’s army into battle. Her laughter is a song that could heal even the most wretched, shattered soul, and her unending kindness is a benevolent force so rare it humbles anyone fortunate enough to experience it. You don’t just see her, you feel her”—his eyelids flutter closed—“in every heartbeat, in the space between breaths.” He opens his eyes again and their dark depths become bottomless “She is everything . And if you think for a second I’d let you tarnish her with your touch, you’re more foolish than I thought.”
Rylan’s voice drips with warning as he stalks closer, his eyes moving to Caelum’s hand on my back. “So, leave us. Now. I’m not going to tell you again. And if you want to keep your hands, I suggest you remove them from my disciple right now. ”
Caelum’s smirk falters slightly, but he doesn’t let go immediately. Instead, he glances at me, raising an eyebrow as if to ask if I’m okay. I give him a small nod, and finally, he lifts his hands away, stepping back with a resigned sigh.
“Fine. No need to break out the sonnets just to say you wanted to hog the woman of the hour for yourself, cousin,” Caelum concedes and presses a kiss to my cheek which elicits a snarl from Rylan. “Stumpy, my dear, it was a delight, as always. I look forward to further conferring with you on the…” he gives me an exaggerated wink, no doubt for Rylan’s benefit, which makes me bite back a smile. “And on that note, Captain Corvane, a drink you say?”
Mathis nods, giving me a brief, sympathetic look before following Caelum back towards the ballroom.
I stare at Rylan, his words still echoing in my ears, the breath barely filling my lungs. “Rylan… your words. I…” I exhale.
Rylan’s gaze flick back to me, and I can see the storm brewing in his eyes. “Are you trying to drive me insane? Because it’s working.”
I blink, his tone instantly putting me on the defensive. Well, that truce didn’t last long. “Wha—”
He doesn’t even let me finish. “Why did you run off with Caelum? I asked you to wait for me.”
I cross my arms, trying to push back the surge of irritation that washes over me. “I didn’t run off anywhere. And not that I owe you an explanation, but Caelum wanted to show me something important so I joined him in the garden for some air. I didn’t think you seriously expected me to just wait around and watch while you flirted with half the kingdom.”
I take a step back from him, but he simply follows, his expression tightening, fury written all over his handsome face. “I wasn’t flirting, and you know it.”
“I know nothing of the sort,” I insist. “And it sure does seem like you expected me to stand around like a fool while you entertain every noblewoman in the ballroom.”
“Gods, you’re not a fool, Eirabella!” he says, his voice tight with warning. “Don’t you dare ever say that to me again. And it’s not like that,” he adds. “You just don’t understand how things work in the court.”
“Then explain it to me!” I snap, my emotions boiling over. “Explain how I’m just supposed to obediently stand by and watch your father present you with a parade of women who are better suited to be by your side!”
Rylan’s breath hitches, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “You act like I enjoy this. Like I don’t hate every second of it. But it’s my duty—”
I cut him off. “Good gods, Rylan. Enough! I’ve heard more than enough of your duty. For once, stop hiding behind that and just be honest about what you want!” I’ve never felt so out of control as when I’m trying to hold back my feelings for him.
For a moment, he just stares at me, his eyes dark and unreadable. Then, in one swift movement, he closes what distance there was left between us, his hands gripping my arms as he pulls me closer.
“Do you think this is easy for me?” he murmurs. If I didn’t know better, I’d think that roughness in his voice was from trying to control his own emotions. “Do you think I don’t hate that I had to leave you and pretend to smile and make conversation with women I couldn't care less about when I was dancing with you? Do you think I wanted to leave you when I finally had you in my fucking arms?”
He squeezes his hand around my arms to emphasise his point and continues, “You think that it didn’t kill me that I was holding you so close that I could feel your heart beating against mine, and I had to step away only to see my cousin had taken my place? You think I wouldn’t have given up everything to have walked you to the ball tonight, but instead I had to see you float in like a fucking angel on my best friend’s arm and know he had been with you when I couldn’t be?” He shakes his head and leans in, his lips brushing against my ear, speaking directly into my soul. “You think that I don’t want you right by my side every fucking second of every fucking day?” He pulls back, watching me catch my breath as each of his confessions steals more and more air from my lungs. For a moment, I feel like every princess in every fairy tale ever written. “I’m trying to protect you, Eira!”
And just like that, reality comes rushing back in again.
“There it is. Again!” I say, pulling myself out of his grip. “How can Rylan and Eira possibly ever have a conversation where Rylan doesn’t tell Eira about how he has to protect her?” I scoff, my heart pounding in my chest. “From what are you protecting me, exactly? From your own feelings?”
“From everything!” he shouts, his eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and desperation. “From my father, from the court, from dangers you don’t even know exist!”
“And what about what I want?” I shout, my voice cracking with emotion. “Have you ever asked yourself what I want? And what if I don’t care about the dangers? What if I want to be with you anyway?”
Rylan’s breath hitches, and for a moment, he looks like he’s about to say something, but the words seem to catch in his throat. Instead, he leans in, his crooked finger lifting my chin to lift my eyes to his. “If anything ever happened to you…” He shakes his head as if he can’t even imagine it. “It’s why I can’t give in to this.”
I shake my head, feeling the disappointment fill my irises. “ Thros valinthar, valoris ,” I echo his words. “Where is your courage? Your heart? You can’t keep living in the past, Rylan. That’s not how life works.”
“You’ve always been braver than me. There’s no denying that.” He shakes his head. “Just another reason I’m not right for you.”
His words sink the very heart in my chest. “Why do you keep pushing me away?” I whisper, the hurt in my words surprising even me.
“Because, Eirabella, if I let myself have you, just for one moment, I’ll never, ever be able to let you go,” he admits, his voice breaking on the last word.
The raw honesty in his words splits me open right down the middle, and I feel the very last of my defences crumbling. Any distance, any fabricated coldness, it all falls away, leaving only the overwhelming need I have for him.
Enough.
I’ve had enough of waiting, of wondering. It’s time to pull him to the cliff, and see if he jumps. I rise up on my tiptoes, running my fingers against the back of his neck, whispering into the side of his neck. “And what makes you think I’ll ever let you have me, Rylan? Even just for one moment.”
I rake my nails down the back of his neck, slowly, sensuous, and he stiffens under my touch, under the fluttering of my lips against the pulse thumping against his throat. And then I start to pull away from him. But he slides his arm around my waist and yanks me forcefully against his chest. The moment our bodies slam together, it’s like something cracks wide open inside both of us. His other hand tangles into my hair, pulling my head back as he growls against my throat. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
My eyes bore into his, challenging him. “To find someone who actually wants me.”
Jealousy flares alive in his eyes until there’s nothing left but pure heat and desire. All fight, all hesitancy, all reticence burns away.
We both hold our breaths and then…
“Fuck it!” he hisses.
And before I can say anything, his lips crash down on mine.
The kiss shatters everything I’ve ever known.
It’s hot and urgent, and I lose myself completely in the intensity of it .
His lips are a mix of hunger and desperation, like he’s been holding this back for too long, and now there’s no stopping it. I can feel the urgency of his need, the way his hands tighten on my hips, pulling me even closer. My fingers find their way into his hair, tugging him even more deeply into the kiss as if I can’t get enough of him.
“Fuck, Eira,” he moans, and desire tears at me, making my core ache for his touch.
Everything else disappears—the world, the noise, the uncertainty. It’s just us, wrapped in this whirlwind of passion and desire, his lips moving against mine like they were made to fit perfectly together. My heart pounds against my chest, matching the rhythm of his, and I can feel the heat between us spiralling out of control.
When we finally pull apart, both of us are breathing hard, our foreheads resting against each other. His thumb brushes lightly over my cheek, and when I meet his gaze again, there’s a fire in his eyes that I’ve never seen before.
“You can’t imagine how long I’ve wanted you,” he whispers, his voice barely audible, but the intensity of his words hits me like a wave.
“Me too,” I breathe, my voice shaky, my body still trembling from the force of what’s happening.
“That kiss by the waterfall has haunted me for weeks. Instead of satiating my craving, it just made me want you, need you even more. I have no idea how I’ve been able to keep my hands off you all this time.”
And just like that, he’s kissing me again. This time he’s slower, more deliberate, but no less intense. His hands grasp for the backs of my thighs as he lifts me up, and my legs wrap around him, the sound of my dress tearing only heightening my need. It’s as if every emotion he’s ever felt for me is pouring into this one moment, and I can feel every ounce of it in the way he holds me, in the way his lips move against mine, and in the way we fit together—perfectly. Grinding his hips against me, it’s obvious there are only thin layers of fabric between his arousal and mine, and the thought draws a moan from me.
“Gods, Eira, you make that sound again and I’m going to fuck you right here, right now,” he growls against my neck, and I throw my head back, letting out a lusty laugh as my hand reaches between us, grazing my fingers over his hardness. “Fuck. Do that again and there’s no question that you’re going to have me thrusting inside you in seconds. You’re a fucking temptress.” His mouth finds mine again, and the world around us dissolves, leaving only the two of us, lost in the heat of the moment. “This is dangerous, we need to stop before someone catches us,” Rylan murmurs, lowering me back down to the ground but there’s no conviction in his voice, only the lingering desire that neither of us can deny.
“Now you’re just making me want it more” I giggle, my heart swelling with the certainty that whatever comes next, we’re in this together.
“Wicked, wanton woman,” he says, as swiftly kisses me again before taking my hand and pulling me out of the garden.
“Where are we going?” I ask, as I try to keep up with him.
“Somewhere I can show you just how good being dangerous is going to feel.”