Page 87 of On Broken Bonds

For several seconds, neither of us speaks. I can feel my heart hammering against my ribs. Can feel the warmth lingering where his hand still rests against my side. Can feel the way my entire body seems to hum with awareness.

Then Thorian's thumb brushes lightly against my waist, and the gesture is somehow more devastating than the kiss itself.

I stare up at him, completely unable to remember whatever I was supposed to be thinking about before this happened.

Which is unfortunate. Because I suspect it was important.

Somewhere in the middle of all the kissing, Fenric has climbed to his feet. He stands beside Thorian now, close enough that my gaze naturally drifts between them.

The silence that settles over us is different now. Charged. Heavy with everything left unsaid.

Fenric is still watching me. His expression has softened since the swamp, but an intensity remains in his gaze that makes my pulse quicken. It’s warm. Interested. Hopeful.

Then I look at Thorian.

That doesn't help.

If anything, it's worse.

The demi-god's expression is harder to read, but the look in his eyes is unmistakable. Focused. Intent. The same look he'd worn right before he kissed me.

My heart begins doing entirely unreasonable things.

For one absurd moment, I wonder if I'm imagining both men staring at me like I’m the last woman on earth. If the exhaustion and adrenaline and near-death experiences have finally broken my brain.

Then Fenric's gaze drops briefly to my mouth before returning to my eyes.

No. Definitely not imagining it.

A strange flutter works through my stomach. What exactly is happening here? What is happening between them? Between us?

I think about Fenric's sweet, careful kiss. Then I think about Thorian's kiss. The thought alone nearly makes me forget how to breathe.

"Um," I begin intelligently.

Neither man looks away.

I clear my throat. "What exactly does all of this⁠—"

I’m not exactly experienced with matters of the heart, but a kiss to them could mean nothing, even while it means something to me.

A scream tears across the swamp. The sound shatters the moment instantly. All three of us turn. Oswyn, one of the Crimson Fangs, slips beneath the water. The vampire disappears so suddenly that for a heartbeat I think I've imagined it. Then Talon lunges forward along the shoreline, shouting his name.

"Oswyn!"

His voice carries across the swamp. Sharp and desperate.

Talon paces the edge of the water, swearing viciously as he searches for any sign of his companion. His boots slap against the muck. The rest of the Crimson Fangs spread out behind him, all traces of their usual confidence gone.

Nothing surfaces.

Nothing answers.

The swamp simply swallows the vampire and remains still.

Along our side of the shore, all the groups finish making it to the other side. Everyone looks exhausted and spent, but they’re alive. Except the knight and the vampire.

My stomach turns. Two lives. Swallowed by that horrifying water.