Seravyn #2
My body rocks on the ladder, my hand gripping the rung. The book slips, and I hear Ren mutter an oath as he’s hit with it. A laugh springs free, and that’s what does it. My slipper actually slips, and I’m falling before I can mutter my own.
“Shit, Sera—”
My belly tumbles right along with me, the panic seizing my breath. Ren’s arms band around me. One braces the small of my back, the other wraps my shoulders, allowing me to find my footing on the lower rung.
He’s staring down into my eyes when I open them. I hold the intensity of his gaze, so close that I don’t notice the scar, only the silver fleck in his dark iris that I never noticed before.
He swallows, his throat working, as his gaze flickers over my features, like he’s undecided where to look. I can feel the warmth of him through the gown, the strain of his taut muscles, his breath ghosting across my lips.
And I forget how to breathe.
“Don’t move,” he murmurs. “Your skirt…there’s a nail.” His hand leaves my back, and I feel a tug as he frees the trapped fabric. “There.”
But instead of releasing me, his hand returns to my lower back. Mine curls around his bicep. And I watch as he licks his lips, making it so that I can’t move, held captive by the intensity of his gaze now fixed on my mouth.
His fingers spread across the curve of my waist, a restraint there, testing.
“I’m going to put you down now,” he says, his voice roughened. And I wonder if he says this more for himself, a command over his own body.
I take a breath as he sets my feet to the floor. I’m still too close to him, unable to stop myself from looking up into his face, taking in the dark fall of his hair.
He doesn’t step away. In fact, he leans closer, bracing a hand on the ladder to cage me against it. So close his chest is a breath from mine. So close I can feel the heat of his body through the layers of his motley.
He lifts his other hand and brushes a strand of hair that has fallen across my cheek. Tucks it gently behind my ear. His fingertips linger there at the curve of my jaw, the side of my throat.
“Thank you for saving me,” I finally say, it leaving me as a whisper.
The corner of his mouth tilts up. “I believe it’s custom to offer a reward for such heroic acts.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Is it now?”
He nods slowly, then tilts his head. Before I can say anything further, he takes my hand in his and brings it up between us, placing a tender kiss to my knuckles. His gaze, hard on mine, burns with a hunger to taste so much more.
“That might suffice,” he says with a sinful smirk, “for now.”
A shiver coasts over my skin. “You know it’s customary to first announce the reward,” I taunt him, my tone lightly mocking.
He hums a low, amused sound at the back of his throat. His thumb sweeps my knuckles where he still holds my hand. “Yes, but I’m just a simple fool, and fools have terrible manners.”
A smile fights to break free. “I’ll allow the excuse,” I say. “But simple, you are not, Renick Ashbourne.”
There’s a spark in the depth of his eyes, a fire kindled that threatens to consume.
Each touch a drop more than the last. He’s dosing me the way my mother dosed my milk—by increments, always one measure more than the body is ready for, building in me a tolerance.
Except tolerance is the wrong word. With poison, the dose that doesn’t kill you teaches your blood to survive it.
With him, every dose only deepens the need for the next.
With forced effort, he releases me, taking a step back as he places a hand over his heart. “Restraint,” he says. “A thing I'm told I should possess more of.”
He then retrieves the fallen book from the floor, holding it out to me. I accept it, daringly brushing my fingers along his, loving the way his jaw clenches, nostrils flaring at the contact.
I take the book to the chaise, where I open it and begin flipping through the delicate pages.
“I’ve been wanting to ask you something…” Ren trails off, and my eyes lift to see him leaned against the bookcase. He waves a hand. “No, never mind.”
“What is it?”
He chuckles, the sound rough, before scraping a hand through his hair. “It’s improper. I shouldn’t.”
I set the book aside. “Now I’m too curious not to hear this question of yours.”
He presses his lips together, gaze fixed on me. “Have you ever been with someone? Outside of the court, I mean.”
My pulse trips. Mouth parted open, I blink, then release a breath. “That is a rather improper thing to ask.”
And yet, his question is no less improper than stealing away to a river at night to bathe in the moonlight of a dark goddess and pleasure oneself. And his knowing, devious expression seems to convey this.
Emboldened, I lift my chin. “I’ll answer, but only if you promise to answer one of my more challenging questions.”
He scrapes his teeth over his bottom lip, causing my nerves to riot at the sight, and then he nods firmly. “I do love a challenge. Agreed, Princess.” He pushes off the bookcase and stalks closer, where he kneels before me, arms braced over one knee, intent to hear my answer.
I smooth out my skirt, lowering my gaze.
“I have not,” I say softly. “Not that it’s entirely forbidden in my home court.
Actually, it’s almost expected of a woman to learn of her own desires before she takes someone to wed.
” I shrug a shoulder. “But for my station, I’m expected to…
keep myself intact, a sealed vessel, so to speak.
Waiting for my betrothed to do the honors. ”
His eyes are so intently focused on me, I swear he hasn’t taken a single breath. “That’s not what I…” He drives a hand through his hair, rubs his jaw. “I wasn’t asking about sex—”