Chapter 43 #2
"Myra," Laurince said, placing his hands on her waist, his fingers pressing against her. Layers of fabric separated his hand and her skin, yet goosebumps rose in the wake of his touch.
What had he asked her? She couldn’t think straight.
She inhaled, hoping to steady her shaking hands. But it only made it worse because when she breathed, all she could smell was him: pine, crushed leaves, and smoke.
"Because," she said, her voice airy as Laurince’s grip on her tightened ever-so-slightly, "when I’m with you, I can’t help but think…"
"Think what?" he prompted.
Myra bit her lip, and Laurince’s attention fell to it. When he dragged his gaze back to her eyes, none of the previous stars that twinkled from the embers pierced through the darkness. There were a million thoughts that passed through those all-consuming eyes. A silent permission.
"Use it, Myra."
Without any effort, Myra plucked the golden thread that whipped around them.
Curiosity and tension danced across the thread in such a way that filled her entire being with a foreign, insatiable hunger.
It was sweet yet sour. Warm like a hearth, yet it sent a scattering of toe-curling chills crawling down her spine.
She rose to her knees. Laurince snaked his hand further around her back, the warmth of his touch spreading across her skin and tickling her spine. He leaned forward, or she did. She didn’t know, nor did she care, not when—
A crack of a twig and a quick hiss had both of them snapping their heads toward the cave’s entrance.
Myra’s nose crashed into Laurince’s cheek as he smashed her against his body.
"Fuck," Laurince spat. A glimmer of steel sparkled in the corner of her eye, where he held his sword.
"Shit, sorry," Rian said, holding up his hands. "Am I…am I interrupting something?"
Myra jolted backward and out of Laurince’s arms. She plopped on the ground beside him, unable to move any further, her limbs liquid.
Rian chuckled and rocked back on his heels. "I hope I’m interrupting something because if not, then I just walked around the woods for nothing."
Mortified, Myra dropped her face into her hands, mumbling a curse.
"Why don’t you take another walk then, huh?" Laurince asked.
"Too late. I gave you plenty of time—more than I should have if I’m being honest." Rian strolled around the fire. He patted Laurince on the shoulder. "You’ve got to be quicker than that, Lo. If you need some pointers, let me know."
If Myra could scream without embarrassing herself more, she would have. Tomorrow, she would have some choice words with Rian—royalty or not.
Rian grabbed his bag and pulled out a blanket. He spread it across the ground. "But hey, don’t mind me. You’re more than welcome to carry on with…whatever that was."
Laurince looked at Myra, a brow cocked. She immediately shoved him.
"Ow," he said, rubbing his chest where she had struck.
She rolled her eyes, though a shy grin curled at her lips.
The moment was dead. She would not kiss Laurince with Rian pretending to sleep right next to them—and doing a piss-poor job at that.
With his head propped up on his arm, Rian wiggled his brows at her.
Scoffing, Myra faced the dying fire. However, without Laurince’s hands on her, she couldn’t help but notice how cold it had gotten. Shivering, she leaned forward and held her hands closer to the embers.
Laurince scooted closer. His leg pressed against hers, his side against her side. He leaned into the crook of her neck, his breath warm against her throat. "You still haven’t answered my question," he whispered.
She shivered even more. "What question?"
His lips grazed her neck. He didn’t quite kiss her, but he was close enough for her to feel the smile that formed. He whispered his question against her neck, trailing it up to her ear. "What do you think about when you look at me?"
"If you two are going to flirt, can you at least be loud enough for me to hear so I can make fun of it later?" Rian called out. "I was left at the altar, you know. It’s only fair."
Laurince released a laugh, his head dropping to her shoulder and shaking her. The sound was so pure that it sent an overwhelming wave of bliss over her, and she could do nothing but lean into it. Lean into him.
Laurince wrapped an arm around her and rested his chin on her head. "You should get some rest, too," he whispered.
Myra hummed in agreement, but she didn’t move. She couldn’t. Because if she moved, she was afraid that this moment would vanish forever. Tomorrow, they would reach the castle, and the true fight would start. She wasn’t ready to face that.
Gathering her courage, she turned, her lips brushing his ear. Then she finally answered him, her words barely a whisper. "I think about kissing you."
A wide smile stretched across Laurince’s face, and he tucked her closer against him. "Maybe you should."
But she didn’t. She wouldn’t, not yet. Not while Rian was punching the air, at least.
Instead, she stayed next to Laurince for a little longer, soaking in his warmth and trying to delay the inevitable as much as she could. And perhaps hoping she would dream about what would have happened if Rian hadn’t interrupted them. If she had actually kissed Laurince.