20. Endings and Beginnings #2
Summer hung heavy in the evening sky, sizzling heat settling into the pores of my skin as the crickets began their nightly songs.
Somewhere in the trees, a bird finished its lament at having lost the sun, roosting in its nest to await the dawn.
The leaves above me rustled in the breeze as I inhaled the twilight air.
A finger traced along my neck and down my chest, drawing a girlish giggle out of me.
“Don’t tease,” I admonished him, taking hold of the offending hand and raising it to my lips. His fingers were long—more suited to an artist than a warrior. I slid my own in between his, marveling at the way our hands fit perfectly together.
He moved closer to me where we lay upon the ground, hidden in a forgotten corner of the garden under the canopy of a linden tree. “Your laughter is the most beautiful sound in the world,” he muttered in my ear, his breath ghosting across my skin. “I will do whatever it takes to hear it.”
A heady rush of excitement brought a drunken smile to my lips. “Silver-tongued demon,” I quipped back. His fingers tightened around my hand as he leaned his head closer, kissing my neck and sending shivers of anticipation all over my body.
He rumbled a laugh that only widened my grin. Tugging his hand out of my grasp, he ran it down my thigh. The thin material of my breeches did little to guard against his heat. But it was his heat that enticed me so.
“As I seem to recall,” he whispered, pausing to place another kiss at the hollow of my throat, “you are rather fond of my tongue.”
I swatted him playfully on the shoulder, laughing again, this time in embarrassment. He looked up at me with the russet waves of his hair falling into his eyes. Black eyes that burned from their depths.
“Corbyn Arlbright, you are the most shameless man I’ve ever met.”
He grinned at that, sending the butterflies in my stomach into a frenzy. “I take that as a compliment, my lady.”
I couldn’t stop my eyes from rolling. “I’ve told you, you don’t have to call me that when we’re alone.”
He huffed out another laugh, pressing his chest into my stomach. “Habit, sorry.”
I reached up and pushed back his hair, threading my fingers in the soft, auburn strands. He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply as he relaxed under my touch. It wasn’t often we got to be alone like this, and I cherished every second of it.
“It’s alright,” I said, stroking down the back of his neck.
Each touch was a spark igniting my skin, chasing every nerve, looking for release. He leaned into my hand in silent insistence that I continue. An aching need tugged at my gut, sudden and unavoidable. I knew I should stop—knew that Lenn would be looking for me soon. But I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.
“Kiss me.” The words rushed out in a raspy whisper, full of need and desire. His dark eyes snapped open, boring into me with the same craving that coursed through my body.
Corbyn Arlbright was not a man that needed to be asked twice.
He pushed up on his arms, swooping his face down to mine and kissing me hungrily.
I grasped at his neck to pull him closer.
Nearly every inch of our bodies pressed together, melding into one.
But his heat was not stifling, even as the summer air seared around us.
I could burn under him and never complain.
While his kiss was hungry, it never crossed the line into forceful.
He was content to map the contours of my mouth with his own, memorizing every curve and dip like there would be a test the next day.
I breathed in his scent, allowing it to overtake my senses.
Smoke and leather, and the slightest trace of citrus filled my breath, swallowing me up.
I was surrounded and full of his essence, desperately craving every part of him. It was the most wondrous place to be.
He drew back and his eyes roved over my face. “Your kisses are the sweetest honey,” he breathed, voice thick with desire. “They could feed me for a lifetime.”
“And they will,” I promised, pulling his mouth back to mine.
The shadows of night crept ever closer. We were running out of time.
One more kiss. One more touch of our skin pressing together, and I would be satisfied.
Then the cycle of longing looks made in secret and stolen touches in hidden corners would start again.
Until the next opportunity arose, and we’d find ourselves back in our private corner of the garden.
His hand trailed down my side and slipped beneath the hem of my shirt, grasping above the soft flesh of my hip.
I leaned into the warmth of his touch to savor the aching desire that shot straight through me.
Divine torture, I called that desire. To want him so deeply and never be able to fully have him.
Our love was doomed to live in the shade of this linden tree, never to stand in the light of the sun. But I would suffer anything for these moments, scarce though they were.
He pulled away again, breathing heavily and resting his forehead against mine. My breath matched his as it dragged through my lungs, like I’d almost drowned in his fire.
“Can this ever be enough?” he asked, his arms trembling. “I don’t want to only have you in the dark. I want to kiss you in the very throne room and show all of them that you are mine .”
I angled my chin up, pressing a gentle kiss to his nose and tasting the salt of tears. “It has to be enough,” I whispered, reaching up to cup his face. “If they knew, they would kill you, Corbyn. Do not ask me to watch you die.”
The hatred of the Drakon War was a generational wound, running deep in the blood. They would never accept us—never understand.
He pinned me with the fierce conviction of his gaze. “I would die a thousand deaths if it meant I could stand by your side, Asvoria Falk.”
I released a long breath, my chest growing heavy. “I won’t let you die even once for my sake,” I said, snaking my arms around his neck. “We are in our own world. Don’t think about anything else. I’m here with you and my heart is only yours. Let that be enough for tonight.”
His eyes swept over my face, lingering on my lips. His hand shuddered against my hip and gripped tighter. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”
I smiled, stroking his hair. “You?—”
Suddenly, he jerked up, sitting back on his knees and looking toward the garden wall. His eyes narrowed at the top of it, shoulders going rigid.
“What is it?” Panic bubbled in my chest as I pushed onto my elbows. He looked back at me, black eyes wide with fear. But before he could answer, a blood-curdling scream rent the night air.
I jerked up into a sitting position, gasping for breath as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. The curtains were drawn, blocking any moonlight, and the fire was dim in the hearth. It was still as a tomb, but my head throbbed painfully, pulsing behind my eyes.
Only a dream.
But it had been so real. I pressed my fingers to my tingling lips, tasting his smoke-and-citrus scent. Like I’d felt the fire in the nightmare of Lukas. Unlike the nightmare though, this dream had been… pleasant.
What is happening to me?
Vor, what is it? the Shadow asked, sounding dazed.
I never got the chance to answer her. Another scream resounded in my ears, though it was no longer in my dreams. This time, it echoed outside.