Chapter Thirty
And he does.
He devours me, consumes me, possesses me, mind and body and soul.
I forget my plan to stay away from him, forget our mission, forget my name.
He’s everything and everywhere, his hands and his mouth and even his teeth on my skin.
Before we reach the bed, he’s stripping my clothes from my body, pulling my shirt away and tossing it behind him, where it lands on the floor on top of his own that somehow disappeared without my noticing.
I’ve seen him without a shirt on the journey. Of course I have. We’ve all been in very close company, and the men don’t wear shirts when they wash.
But.
I always tried not to stare at him. Not even look at him, really, because the carved muscles of his chest and abdomen make me want to reach out and trace the indentions between those muscles with my fingers.
Or my tongue.
But now I can. I reach out, still tentative. Instead of smoothing my fingers into those enticing divots, though, I use one finger to trace the scar that nearly killed him.
“I’m so glad you survived this.”
“I survived every danger so I could be alive for this one moment. So I could be exactly here, exactly now, to finally see you naked in my bed,” he says, his voice husky. “You’re as beautiful on the outside as you are on the inside.”
He stares at my body in the moonlight shimmering in through the window with something approaching awe. Watching him look at me, I feel shy and bold. Feverishly hot and icy cold. My skin is alive with sensation; my body alive with need.
“You’re the beautiful one, Prince Purple Eyes,” I tease him, then laugh delightedly when his cheeks redden. “How can that embarrass you? People must have been telling you how pretty you are since the day you were born.”
My voice is light, but I’m serious. There’s no way this gorgeous man grew up as the beloved crown prince of Valourian and then spent the past decade in the palace at Pallanhold without hearing an endless litany of compliments from adoring courtiers.
“Maybe.” He shrugs. “It meant less than hearing my swordsmanship was improving.”
Suddenly, his eyes narrow, and he smacks himself in the forehead. “I’m a fool. I can’t—we can’t—there could be a child—”
“No.” I look away. “No. The Sisters make all the female servants take Queen Jersia’s lace in a tisane on a regular schedule. They said … they said we couldn’t be trusted not to ‘get ourselves in trouble.’”
He catches my hand. “Not here, Soli. Let’s not allow them into this room with us.”
I raise my chin. “You’re right. Forget them. To the point, though, there’s Queen Jersia’s lace in my fake poisoner’s kit, and I’ve continued to take it more out of habit than anything else, so we’re safe. No babies.”
I’m nowhere near the kind of existence where I can think about babies, even though the idea of someday, far in the future, holding a purple-eyed infant briefly dances around the edges of my mind.
“Thank you,” he says. “I would never want to do anything to harm you, and now—”
“Now, you should kiss me again.”
“Yes, my lady.” He kisses me and pulls me against him, the amulet glowing softly, illuminating the space between us. I instinctually reach up to touch the locket that holds it.
And then I gasp and push him away.
“What is it?” Kaelen, always the protector, scans the room for danger, but his gaze almost immediately returns to me. “Is it the amulet?”
“Yes.” I swallow, hard. “I’m afraid. Not for me, but for you. What if the amulet—if Artemisen—decides you’re not meant to be so close to it?”
I feel my face heat and bite my lip. “I mean, your bare skin will touch the locket at some point, and what if the warding doesn’t hold, or that beam of light comes back, or—”
“Soli, stop.” He smiles down at me and reaches out to touch my hair. “If Artemisen wanted me to die, she could have killed me easily enough at any point on this trip. She’s the goddess of balance and nature. What could be more part of nature and balance than lovemaking?”
“I’m afraid to take it off, even for a little while. Is it worth risking your life to find out?” My voice is a whisper, and I know the answer must be no. I don’t think she’d let me die in flames now that I’m on the quest to free her. But anybody who touches me so intimately? Could he be safe?
“You’re thinking too hard again,” he murmurs, and then he pulls me tightly against his chest and kisses me so deeply I can’t think. His kisses and the feel of his muscled body against my breasts steal my breath, my reason, until I’m left dazed and staring at him when he finally lifts his head.
“I think we’re okay.” He grins and glances down at the amulet, no longer glowing but simply resting in its magically warded case.
“It stopped glowing. Maybe she doesn’t approve?” My brain hurts, trying to figure out the motivations of a goddess. Especially now, distracted by all the impossibly carnal things I want to do to Kaelen.
The things I want him to do to me.
“Maybe she’s decided to step aside and mind her own business,” Kaelen murmurs. “Should I close the window?”
“I—What?”
He throws back his head and laughs, but quietly, with an eye to the open window. “Should I close it? In case anyone is near enough to hear us …”
Glowing or not, I move the locket to rest on my back, the chain a light weight on my throat.
This makes me feel even more bare to Kaelen’s fiery gaze.
Suddenly shy, I cross my arms over my breasts.
We’re on the third floor of the inn, so nobody could see in even if they wanted to, but if they hear us … What if I can’t help but cry out when …
Before I can answer, he crosses to the window and closes it. “We can open it later.”
“Later,” I agree, watching him walk toward me and fiercely wanting to strip the rest of his clothes from him. Wanting to see all of his skin. Wanting to touch him as I asked him to touch me.
Just then, what he said before dashes into my mind, and I can’t help but laugh.
“What’s funny?” He stops less than a hand’s span away from me and reaches for the buttons on his pants.
“Your swordsmanship was improving. Just who exactly was telling you this?”
Kaelen’s eyes light up. “Did you just make a dirty joke?”
I bite my lip, suddenly worried. “I think I did. Is that okay?”
“Is that okay?” He leans forward and kisses me like I’m his new beginning and his journey and his destination, all wrapped up into one. “Everything about you is a delight to me. I’m so happy to see you becoming the brave, funny, powerful, amazing woman you were always meant to be.”
I kiss him back, and then he straightens, looking down at me with a wry smile. “Not that you weren’t always a lot bolder than anybody knew.”
Part of the joy overflowing inside me is that finally, finally, I feel that somebody recognizes me now.
And recognized me before.
Even as a servant, even disguised by the dirt and rags of my captors.
Even with Gray Mind.
“You see me. You see the real me, and that means more to me than I can ever express,” I tell him softly, and he drops to one knee next to the bed, takes my hand in his, and kisses it.
“Thank you.” But then his smile turns wicked. “And now I mean to see much more of you. If the answer is still yes.”
I reach out and unfasten another of his buttons. “The answer is still yes.”
With a whoop, he stands, rips through the remaining buttons, and shoves his pants down his legs. Confronted with the starkly enormous evidence of exactly how much he wants me, I can’t form words, but it doesn’t matter. We don’t need words.
He slides my pants off, taking my undergarments with them, and then he’s on the bed next to me, pulling me close, our bodies flush against each other from head to toe.
I can’t breathe, don’t need to breathe, don’t want to breathe, only want to climb inside him, inside this moment, and live here forever.
He rocks against me, his thick erection pressing exactly where I want it—need it.
I cry out, or maybe he does, and we’re kissing each other like we invented the art of kissing and are determined to perfect it before we unleash such a desperately dangerous act upon the world.
His kisses are heat and skill and fierce desire, capturing, coaxing, plundering, and I match him kiss for kiss, frantically touching every inch of his skin that I can reach.
“I can’t.” He breaks off, panting, his voice rough with passion. “If we don’t slow down—”
“I don’t want to slow down,” I demand. “More. Faster.”
He laughs. “Soli, I need to see you. Please. I feel like I’ve waited years to see you.”
I take a deep breath and roll over until I’m lying on my back and smile up at him. “Here I am. But if you can look at me, I can look at you.”
“Please,” he says, so fervently that I have to laugh.
“I didn’t know,” I whisper, reaching up to touch his face. The face that I’ll never, ever forget, no matter what happens. “I didn’t know there could be laughter and passion and tenderness and heat.”
“Neither did I,” he says flatly, his gaze suddenly on something far away, so far that I know he’s thinking of people who wanted to use him for advancement or riches or his title.
“No.” I grab his hair with both hands and make him look at me again. “No thoughts of anything or anyone else allowed.”
“You’re very bossy,” he says, turning his head to nip at my fingers.
“Yes. I am. Isn’t it amazing?”
“You’re amazing.” His gaze travels down my body with such predatory hunger that my breath turns shaky and I tremble. “You’re so beautiful, my Solitude Grace. I have to touch you.”
I nod, beyond words, still trembling, and he sits up, pulling me with him until we’re kneeling, facing each other. He cups my breasts in his big hands, and my nipples harden almost to the point of pain beneath his touch.