2. God Help Us
~ GRACE ~
Voski reached for me, trembling hands suddenly in my hair, tipping my head, his thumbs framing the lines of my jaw as he took my mouth with a fierce, shuddering groan.
The moment our lips touched, the tide in my chest shifted and that relentless tugging at my heart, that ache that had been present since the first night in the forest of Fyrehold, was suddenly flooded in heat and need.
A starburst of pleasure and thrill—and equal part nerves—sparked behind my ribs when his tongue slid against mine. I inhaled as a low, desperate groan rolled out of his throat.
He kissed me, his hands everywhere—nails on my scalp, palms following the curves of my waist, and cupping my breast. A tiny voice screamed in the back of my head that he wasn’t to be trusted. Yet, I fell gladly into his steely strength.
The same arm that wrapped around me in the night when I wept, now lay against my spine and held my weight as he bent me backward over it.
The same lips that murmured reassurance and hope for morning when the nightmares stole my courage, yet spat venom in his rage, now danced on mine, teasing, tantalizing.
And the same heart that stood broken before me, just moments earlier when he’d revealed his dark fear, now thumped hard against my chest and made his hands tremble.
Voski, the man of ice and fire, who walked the shadows and made men fear, touched me with trembling hands. And with even the slightest touch, he raised the hair on my neck, pebbled my skin in goosebumps, stopped my breath.
His kiss was consuming—a question, followed by demand. And as I desperately tried to answer, he pulled me closer.
His need rumbled in his chest, creating a surge in my blood, as my desire answered with equal fervor.
At first, I was afraid to give in, to let myself hope again. Because so many times, he’d drawn close, then pushed me away.
But as his fingers dragged into my hair and tugged my head back, as he dropped his chin to kiss the sensitive skin under my throat, and rasped my name with a guttural growl, my body thrilled. And my heart wept with relief.
I clung. Digging nails into his back, holding him against me, refusing to allow even air between us. And he didn’t run.
Thank God, he didn’t run.
The tighter I squeezed, the deeper his kiss.
The faster my breath, the harder his grip.
And the further I drifted from my fear, the greater the light in the tangled little cord around my heart.
“Voski…” I whispered his name, and felt that cord pulse. Felt the light within it swell—and felt him go still, his panting breath fluttering on my skin.
When he suddenly pulled me upright, I was disoriented—blinking back to reality with a jolt. Had I broken the spell again?
But when I straightened, holding his shoulders for balance, and stared up at him, his eyes didn’t flicker with shadows. He tipped his head and looked at me, tracing the line of my jaw with a finger.
A breeze rose, chill and insistent, rustling the leaves of the trees around us. I was grateful. It cooled my hot cheeks.
“It’s going to rain,” he said quietly, his voice deep and ragged. My heart sank—he wanted to go back to the Keep? “But, there’s something I want to show you. If you feel safe to come with me?”
I inhaled sharply at the uncertainty in him. Him, who always knew the answer. Who grew so fractious when I was in the wrong place, or used the wrong words.
But that angry, erratic man wasn’t here. The sharp angles of his face cast shadows, but his black eyes shone out from under them as he stared down at me between tines of his hair.
“I’ll follow you anywhere,” I blurted—then bit my lip, wishing the words back, because of course he’d run from—
But instead of running. Instead of freezing with his eyes shadowed in wary darkness, Voski’s mouth opened slightly and he shook his head, then reached for me, leaning down to kiss me, deep and slow.
Just as I sank back into his chest, he drew back, his breath fluttering on my lips.
“I haven’t earned your trust. But I will.”
I blinked—the instinct to reassure him was strong. But, he was right.
“I want you to,” I said honestly.
He kissed me softly, quickly, then took my hand, turned on his heel and led me into the trees.
~ VOSKI ~
Leading her toward the treehouse, my heart thumped against my ribs, and my hands shook. But it was a battle to keep myself from running. I needed her with me, out of sight, and away from any interruption.
I would have to buy Gil’s forgiveness. It had been our agreement from the start that we’d never bring women here.
But he only rarely visited now. And the wind was rising.
The clouds thickening to blanket what little sunlight still remained.
I couldn’t take her to the barracks, and while her loft was more private… no.
I trembled, my skin humming with anticipation—and fear. While the dragons approved and rumbled their urging in the bond, they were distant. I’d told Kham to keep Koa close enough that Grace could reach her, but not to disturb us.
‘Of course! A first mating should be savored alone.’
‘I don’t know, Kham. Women aren’t dragons. And I’ve hurt her. Just, please. Don’t interrupt.’
He gave a low, happy huff in the bond. ‘We will not break into your minds unless there’s an emergency.’
Relieved, but only tenser because of his assumptions, I led her to the tree with downturned branches. We’d built the treehouse long enough ago that the branches now grew around it, obscuring it even further than the natural shade of the leaves.
Grace didn’t notice it until I had her at the base of the trunk and looked up. She followed my gaze, tilting her delicate chin up, and her face brightened with joy. “Oh! A tree house!”
“Yes. I’ll climb up and get the rope ladder—”
“No need.” Flipping her cloak back over her shoulders, she threw herself at the trunk, grasping the lowest branch and running her feet up until she could stretch with the opposite hand for the next.
I watched, stunned, as she clambered up—one boot daintily placed on the lowest branch, twisting her body around the branch, her small hand cupping the broad branch above that was a stretch for her reach, until she could swing off it and draw her legs up to the next.
I was so enthralled, it wasn’t until she’d reached the bottom of the treehouse and hunched, peering at the underside of its floor, frowning, that I woke up and started to climb.
“How do you get in?” She looked down at me between the branches, smiling—but I caught the edge of tension around her eyes and hurried to get close enough to touch her.
We needed to be close. We’d both feel better when we were touching.
As quickly as I ever had, I slipped through the branches, pulling myself up and swinging between until I was only one level below her, and praying Gil would forgive me, because I was breaking two promises by telling her how to release the catch so she could get inside.
“See that knot underneath? Press it in. Hard.”
She bent down, tendrils of her hair swinging as she turned her head to look under the platform the rest of the treehouse was built upon. She reached for the knot and pressed, but couldn’t get it to release.
“Try using your thumb.”
She did, but didn’t have the strength at the strange angle. So, I pulled myself up to the branch with her, holding my weight with one hand on the edge of the platform, so I could place a foot either side of hers, and cage her in.
The thrill behind my navel shivered when she turned her head and looked at me over her shoulder, her gaze admiring, but also unsure.
“I’m done running, Grace. I swear,” I said softly, reaching past her to press the knot—I knew it as surely as I knew my own body, I’d been here so many times. Her eyes locked on mine, and I was about to kiss her, when the trapdoor gave.
She startled and almost slipped. But I had an arm on either side of her, and braced until she’d found her balance again, then she turned and exclaimed, holding the branch only to crouch and lean under the platform.
In moments, she’d pulled herself up and into the treehouse, her boots disappearing before her face reappeared, upside down. “Did you build this?!”
I nodded. She smiled brightly, then disappeared again.
Panic flared when I couldn’t see her, but it was mere moments to pull myself up into the small room that was easily tall enough for Grace to stand without hunching.
The shadows were deep, here under the trees and the roof.
There were windows, but we kept them shuttered, so the air was already chill because the sunlight rarely touched inside.
But my heart pounded with such vigor, I barely felt it as I slid the trapdoor back into place, so that it once again became a seamless piece of the floor.
Then I stood.
The ceiling was just tall enough for Gil and me—early on, Gil liked to tease that he’d knock his head, even if I didn’t.
It didn’t matter today, because I kept my head and eyes down. On her.
Grace, as usual, was enthralled.
I tried to see this place as she must, with fresh eyes—simple wooden floor and walls. Little corner shelves where we lit candles only when the shutters were closed because we didn’t want wanderers to see light from the outside.
The room was barely the size of a servant’s quarters. I was reminded of her upbringing—how accustomed to space and luxury she must be. Yet, she’d never complained about her loft.
But this place was smaller. Darker. Also, much more private.
My belly fizzed.
Grace hurried straight to the small bookshelf on the opposite wall, running her fingers along the spines of the dozen books we kept out here, changing them sporadically when one of us purchased a new one.
She saw the stool in the corner where we sat because it was easier to take boots off in a small space.
The pitcher and bowl on top of it were for washing. There was a bucket on a pulley that I could lower through the trap door to bring more water up.
And then, her eyes fell on the bed and she went still.