Chapter 54 #3
Wisteria Falls was a natural crescent of waterfalls that cascaded over rocky cliffs.
Some of the falls jutted out from lower points, but here, at the peak, the pool had to be fifty feet below.
The land carved away almost looked like someone had taken a great scoop out of the earth, rivers curving into and around it.
Mist flew off the falls and into the air, spouts of water sparkling like it was pouring straight from the stars. Emmeline thought if she touched it, it would feel like pure magic.
To the south, the jungle sloped down, the water flowing calmly through the trees under the moonlight. Winged birds that had to be as large as her took to the skies, feathers dusting the treetops as they soared.
And for a moment, it was hard to imagine anything bad happening in this territory, this realm.
“It’s magnificent,” Emmeline breathed.
She wasn’t sure Roremar would hear her over the rushing water, but he said, “More than.” When she looked up, his eyes were on her.
Heat rushed to her cheeks.
I love you because…
“I never thought I’d see the falls,” Emmeline said, pressing onto her toes to be heard over the water. Roremar’s arm slipped around her waist, the touch as natural as breathing now that she didn’t have to push him away. “But I’ve read a lot about them. Theories and legends of how they formed.”
“What’s your favorite?”
“Oh…” Emmeline inhaled, gazing into the steep drop below. “I don’t have one.”
Roremar chuckled. “Yes, you do.”
His words and understanding of her burrowed into her chest. I love you.
She considered, leaning closer. “I like the ones that claim when the waters wash over you, you can only speak truths. Or…there’s one my mother told me. It was her favorite, so it became one of mine.”
Emmeline tipped her face to the stars, seeking out one brighter than the rest, pretending that was her mother winking down at her.
“Tell her about it,” Roremar said, following her gaze.
She peered at him, but instead of looking back to the stars, she waited until his silver eyes met hers. “My mother said the falls were formed when a god scooped out part of the land. She said the water…”
She thought back to all those nights she and her mother sat alone beneath the stars, her words whispered on the breeze beyond their secluded cottage.
“Do you know the Myth of the Lost Daughter?” When he nodded, she said, “It’s something like that.
The water was from the tears of a Fate. They lost what they cherished most, and the rivers never stopped flowing because they never recovered whatever it was.
It explains why the land is always considered even more magical here. ”
“Like Fatetouched Land on the Constellation Isles,” Roremar said, gazing into the falls below. Then, he flicked a mischievous glance at Emmeline, her heart tumbling with it.
“What’s the look for?” she asked.
Without answering, Roremar stepped away from her. His eyes held hers as he reached behind his head and gripped his tunic by the neck, pulling it off. He tossed it to the floor, and heat pulsed through her as he stared back at her.
She couldn’t stop her eyes from dragging appreciatively over his body. He’d held her atop that well today, made her fall apart without even touching her in the catacombs, but she hadn’t seen him like this since before they lost Nico.
Hadn’t gotten to indulge in the cut of his muscles and his broad chest, the way ink artfully decorated his skin and painted the stories of all those he loved.
Now, as he was cast in starlight, practically cut from the sky itself, she dragged her gaze over his corded forearms and each Fate sigil. Along each hand, recalling how heat scorched through her at his touch.
She studied the constellation and date across his ribs, the name of his father’s boat and the wound from the other night, healing thanks to Cyren’s help and Roremar’s warrior blood.
As her gaze trailed south, to that defined line of muscles that disappeared into the waistband of his low-slung pants, she squeezed her thighs together. She remembered what he looked like as he stroked himself, how he sounded.
Desperate.
She was desperate for him.
Roremar cleared his throat, and Emmeline’s gaze shot up. He was smirking—insufferable, reckless, damningly attractive man.
“Everything okay, Huntress?” he asked, blinking dramatically as he removed his pants, standing in only his undershorts. She could easily see the outline of his cock, hard and thick, and she was certain he knew it.
But she could never give in to his taunts that easily. Emmeline licked her lips, a motion Roremar tracked. “Yes, of course.”
“You look a little…flushed.”
“It’s warm.” Her cheeks, her neck, her entire body was flaming.
Roremar nodded. “In a jungle. At night. As winter approaches.”
“Yes, practically boiling conditions.”
“Agitated by the heat?” Roremar stretched and dragged a hand down his chest. Starlight carved the lines of his torso, as if pointing right where she shouldn’t look.
“Entirely calm.”
“Mm-hmm.” He looked over his shoulder, dark hair swishing. “Then do you feel like doing something reckless with me?”
“What—”
“Only one way to find out what waits in the tears of the Fates.”
And without another word, he winked and flipped backward into Wisteria Falls.