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“I didn’t say that. I didn’t say only when it comes to whatyouwant. But I think you know why you haven’t asked me to Grimstone’s,” I whispered. “I don’t. But you do. There’s a reason for it—one I cannot see yet.”
“But are you beginning to see it?” he questioned, leaning forward, his chest pressing harder against the side of the washing tub. “Are you beginning to see who I am, little witch?”
“I’m not even close,” I admitted, my eyes half-lidded, leaning toward him. “I know your name is Lorik Ravael. I know you don’t live in Rolara. I know Veras knows you and he thinks you’re dangerous. I know you joke and smile with the lonely old silk trader at the market and that it makes her whole week. I know you watch people, I know you see a lot more than many do. I know you were struck with a poisoned arrow with a metal tip when Allavari only use wood. I know you’ve killed Severs…only you call them Shades. And that you’ve read books in Olimara. And that you have a sister who you would do anything for, though I’ve never seen you with anyone in the village. And I know…”
I swallowed, licking my lips again, and I felt the pressure of Lorik’s thumb increase on my bottom lip.
“You know what, Marion?”
“I know that you look at me like you don’t look at anyone else. Unless even that’s a lie,” I couldn’t help but add. “Is it?”
“Hmmm. Tell me how I look at you, and I’ll tell you if it’s a lie,” he rasped.
“Like…like you want me. Like I’m the one thing you can’t figure out and it drives you mad,” I answered honestly, memory of catching his pensive frown on me in the market. “Like you want nothing more than to steal my kiss and for some reason you just won’t. Or can’t. Like—”
Lorik leaned forward, his movements so quick they were a blur.
His palm spread over my cheek, his long fingers extending toward the nape of my neck, tugging me toward him.
His lips were warm and soft…but his kiss was firm.
I gasped, my scalp tingling, a full-body shiver racking me.
“Not a lie,” he whispered against my lips. His tongue lapped at mine, his fangs brushing my bottom lip, teasing. “How’s this for not hesitating?”
Chapter
Thirteen
His husky words drifted over my tongue, threading down my throat, until it felt like I’d consumed them entirely.
He hadn’t hesitated—not this time—and so I didn’t either. And maybe it was the emotion of the afternoon and evening—Veras and the Sever and the dark look in Lorik’s eyes when he’d spoken of mercy and Shades—but I neededsomething. I needed an escape. An outlet.
And I knew I would find it in Lorik.
Our kiss grew to be a desperate thing, roving and seeking like a moon wolf scenting prey. His hot breath drifted between my lips. I inhaled his scent like bonfire smoke, making me dizzy, making the walls spin. His kiss made my mouth tingle, like I could feel the pinpricks of his magic trailing along my skin, pleasant little zings that only made me demand more.
My hands went to his wet shoulders. I forgot about his wound, but he didn’t even flinch when I accidentally hit the bandage.
“Lorik,” I gasped out, feeling need rise in me, growing and growing to new heights that it was almost frightening. There was a buzzing underneath my skin, one that made me so full ofenergy I thought I might burst. Especially if he didn’t touch me the way I wanted.
It had been much too long since I’d slept with a man. Since I’d felt the weight and heat and press of one. Since I’d felt whispered sighs drift across my skin and felt the sweat cooling on my chest in the afterglow.
I’d hidden myself away in the Black Veil in my grief…but it had been ten years and I’d been paralyzed here. Unable to move forward.
I didn’t want that anymore. And I had a Kylorr-Allavari male, who was much more than he seemed, pressed into me.
And I wanted him.
I wanted him so desperately I thought I would choke on my need.
Lorik, thank the gods, seemed to feel that same desperation clawing inside him because he stood from the washing tub in one swift motion. He broke our kiss only momentarily, and I stared up at him with a half-lidded gaze, lips swollen and red, as I kneeled in front of him.
Despite the icy water he’d been bathing in, and despite the fact that I’d just stitched up a wound—a wound that he’d only recently recovered from, his cock was as hard as Allavari steel.
“One chance,” he told me, the words drenched in warning though they fell from his lips like a purr. “One chance to leave, little witch. Because if I have you tonight, there’s no going back.”
Maybe if I wasn’t panting like a dog in heat, maybe if he hadn’t kissed me until I couldn’t even recall my own name I might’ve answered differently. I might’ve paused, given his words honest and deliberate thought.
