Chapter 43
Amryn
Amryn’s head spun as Carver kissed her. She hardly knew how they’d gone from such a heated argument to this. But she held him just as fiercely as he held her. Every brush of his lips was a promise, and her heart swelled with the love she felt for him. From him.
Her fears and insecurities melted under the heat of his touch.
He’d never been trying to push her away.
All those times he’d shielded his emotions, he’d been trying to protect her.
The fear and anger he’d felt today weren’t because she was an empath.
It was because he loved her, and he was desperate to keep her safe.
Amryn didn’t think she’d ever felt safer than she did right now, standing in Carver’s arms.
When their mouths broke away, it was only so they could both drag in air.
He didn’t let her go, and Amryn only burrowed closer.
She buried her face in the side of his neck, breathing in the spicy sandalwood scent of him as he wrapped an arm around her waist, one hand still cradling the back of her neck.
He let his thumb glide over the sensitive skin behind her ear in soft, languid strokes as they both simply breathed.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, his warm breaths teasing her hairline.
Filled with new boldness, she pressed a soft kiss against his throat. A thrill went through her when she felt him shiver.
“I’m sorry, too,” she said softly. “I said horrible things to you. I didn’t mean them. I do trust you.” She tilted her head back so she could meet his gaze, her heart racing as she said, “I love you, Carver.”
His breath caught. Then heat flared in his deep blue eyes.
His hand flexed against her side, dark hair falling over his brow as he ducked to brush his lips against hers.
Soft. Sweet. Perfect. Then he shifted, their foreheads resting together as he whispered, “I could hear you say that a thousand times and I think I’d still be as staggered as I am right now. ”
She smiled, her fingers curling into his shirt. Keeping him close. “Is this even real?” she breathed.
He drew back, his eyes roaming her face. She knew her left cheek was horribly swollen, but he touched her there with infinite gentleness. Gazed at her as if she were the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. “I’ve been asking myself the same thing from the moment I first met you.”
A flutter in her abdomen accompanied the melting of her heart.
His hand lifted as he brushed back a strand of loose hair, tucking it behind her ear.
“I know nothing has gone according to plan, and that we’ve been here far longer than I promised.
I’ve been distracted, trying to find Trevill’s killer and whoever is targeting the Chosen.
But I’m sorry I neglected you.” His brow furrowed.
“I could tell something was wrong, but I didn’t realize the strain between us was my doing. ”
She immediately shook her head. “I should have told you how I was feeling.”
“Maybe we both could have done things differently.” The skin around his eyes tightened.
“If you’re ever worried about something I say, or do, or feel, just ask me.
I promise I’ll try to explain what I’m thinking so you don’t have to wonder.
And if I’m not ready to talk about something, I’ll tell you that, too. ”
Still reeling by all that had happened between them—and that breath-stealing, beautiful kiss—she whispered, “All right.”
His eyes dropped to her lips, and warmth spread through her veins. Anticipation hummed between them. She was ready to get lost in him again. To forget everything and everyone beyond these walls and—
“Ford!” she gasped.
Carver stilled. “I really don’t like hearing another man’s name on your lips right now.”
She blushed. “That’s not—I just—He was stabbed. What if it’s worse than we thought? I need to check on him and—”
“If the wound was more serious, we would have figured that out while we waited hours at Piera Denvoux’s shop,” Carver said, breaking smoothly into her frantic spill of words. “Besides, the physician will have already seen to him. If you healed him now, it would be extremely suspicious.”
He had a point. Still . . . “If he takes a turn for the worse, I’m going to heal him.”
Carver brushed an errant curl from her temple. “As long as I’m with you, making sure you’re safe while doing it.” His expression softened. “Thank you,” he murmured. “For healing me today. I hate that you risked so much, but I’m grateful.”
Her heart clenched. “I wasn’t going to lose you.”
He stared at her, so many emotions rolling through him.
“I know I’m still adjusting to everything you can do.
But I meant what I said back in Esperance—you’re incredible.
I’m not afraid of you, because I know you.
You’re everything good and beautiful.” He swallowed hard.
“There was a time in Harvari I thought I’d never see anything good or beautiful again. ”
Her heart ached. She knew that even referencing his time in Harvari cost him greatly. His vulnerability was painfully clear, but it was a unique show of trust that left her humbled.
She rested her palm against his rough jaw, her fingertips tracing against his skin. “I never thought I’d experience love. Not like this.” Her eyes flicked up to meet his. “I never dared to dream that someone as perfect as you existed.”
A muscle jumped under her hand, his eyes shadowed. “I’m not perfect.”
Her thumb ran over the pale scar on his chin. “You’re perfect for me.”
A flood of emotions rushed through him, but love was strongest of all as he leaned down and once again claimed her mouth.
Her hand shifted from his jaw, her fingers threading through the soft locks of his hair. Their hearts beat together, echoing the intensity of their kiss. Slow and steady at first, a perfect exploration—then rushed and frantic as need and desperation grew.
Overwhelmed by sensation, nothing else existed. Just the feel of his hands on her body. The drag of his lips against hers. The rapid breaths that feathered across her skin. The heat of his body against her palms. The flex and shift of hard muscles beneath his skin. The rasp of his bristled jaw.
She was drowning in him, and she never wanted to surface. Surrounded by him, feeling the delicious pressure of his body against hers, reaffirmed everything they’d spoken. He was hers. And she was unequivocally his.
There was a slight tug on her hair as his hand fisted in her curls. It sent tingles scattering over her scalp and all across her body. A gasp escaped her when he pressed her against the stone wall.
Carver froze, his breathing unsteady as he drew back. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.” Any aches or pains had vanished the moment he’d begun kissing her.
Despite her answer, Carver didn’t resume kissing her.
His eyes were alight, his desire as high and intense as her own.
But she felt the moment he forced his need back.
He eased his hand from her hair, his fingers brushing the edge of the bandage wrapped around her throat.
“You should be resting. I know you’re hurting more than you told the physician. ”
She caught his wrist. “Kissing helps.”
His lips quirked, flashing his dimple. “You’re making it extremely difficult to be noble.” He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss beneath the bruising on her cheek. “I can’t heal you,” he murmured. “At least let me take care of you.”
Saints, she had no defenses against this man. She sighed. “All right.”
He nudged her toward the bed, while he went to pick up the pillows.
Her cheeks warmed as he carried them over. “I’m sorry I threw a pillow at you.”
His eyes danced. “I’ve faced worse things than a pillow, sweetheart.” He settled them on the bed, then helped her sit.
She winced as the bruising on her abdomen flared painfully. Carver frowned, but she spoke before he could. “I’ll be fine. I’m just a little sore.”
His frown remained in place as he draped the blankets over her lap. He sat carefully on the edge of the bed, his leg slightly bent as he faced her. “I’m going to have to leave soon,” he told her, reluctance pulsing inside him.
“Oh. The emperor’s meeting.” She’d nearly forgotten Carver would need to give his report on what had happened in Market Square. She tensed, suddenly remembering what Rhone had said. “You saw Tam.”
Carver’s eyes darkened. “Yes.” He proceeded to tell her how he’d run into Rhone, and how they’d followed Tam until they’d been attacked. How they’d come to realize a rebel strike was imminent on Market Square.
Not quite ready to relive all of that, Amryn focused on Tam. “I can’t believe she’s in Zagrev. It’s the last place I would have expected her to come.”
“Maybe her rebel contact was here. Or maybe she’s just that arrogant. Either way, we’ll find her.”
Amryn nodded once. She wanted Tam caught. But there was a small, selfish part of her that was grateful she’d managed to slip away.
Carver eyed her. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
He wasn’t an empath, but he was certainly good at reading her. She sighed. “Tam knows my secret.”
She felt the stirring of his confusion—just as she felt the stab of his fear when he realized the full implication of her words. He paled. “She could tell everyone once she’s caught.” He eased back, shoving a hand through his hair. “Bloody Saints, I hadn’t considered that.”
“It’s all right.”
“It’s not. I should have thought about this.” His eyes widened. She could feel the twist in his gut. “I almost led Rhone right to her.”
Amryn laid a hand on his knee. “I have the bloodstone,” she reminded him.
“Even if Tam told Rhone, the bloodstone would still shield me.” But even as she said the words, she wondered if that would be enough to save her from Tam’s accusation.
It probably worked in her favor that Rhone hated Tam so much, but would it be enough to make him dismiss her claims entirely?
“I saved Rhone’s life.”
Carver’s unexpected words ripped Amryn from her thoughts. “What?”