Page 113 of Seaborn and the Seven Seas

When I caught my breath, he lifted his head and met my eyes, his own dark, the blue of them swallowed by something deeper.

“Was it always like this between us?” I managed.

“Always.” He held my gaze as he settled over me, his weight warm and solid. “Every time.”

I gasped when the fullness of him entered me, his gaze locked on mine, unwavering. He moved unhurried, each slow pull and push building something untamable low in my belly. My hands found his back, fingers spreading across the muscle, feeling every shift and flex as he moved.

His wings spread wider above us both, blocking out the cave mouth and the stars beyond the entrance, blocking out the kingdoms, the battle waiting at the end of tomorrow, until there was nothing in the world but the fire at our backs, the rhythm between us, the sound of our uneven breaths.

A low and deep groan left him and echoed off the rocky walls, filling the cave. Something about hearing him undone—Calroy, god of the sky, who had faced queens, creatures, and lifetimes of waiting—completely undone because of me, sent the pleasure cresting higher than I could hold.

It broke through me all at once, wave after wave, my voice lost somewhere in the cave.

He followed moments after, his forehead dropping to mine, breath ragged, arms trembling with the effort of holding himself above me. For a long moment neither of us moved. Just breathing. Just the crackle of the fire and the wind moving across the ledge outside.

Then he lowered, gathering me against his chest, his wings folding loosely around us both like walls against the cold, a shelter that belonged only to us, here at the top of the world.

We lay, his heartbeat slowing beneath my palm. I traced a line along his forearm, chasing the thought that had been sitting with me since after the land of the dead.

“I only recall pieces of us,” I said. “How you used to fly me to the stars.”

“You loved them.” A ghost of a smile. “Still do, I’d wager.” He looked past me, toward the mouth of the cave where the sky opened wide and endless. “Each time we went up, I made more just for you.”

I blinked. “Made more what?”

“Stars.” He laced his fingers through my hair, his mouth curving. “You’d point at the sky and tell me there wasn’t enough. So I gave you more. Every flight, a few more lights scattered across the dark.”

Something in my chest ached.

He brushed a strand of hair from my face. “You gave me a reason to fill the sky. But I think you loved the stars more than me.” He chuckled, low and warm. “You were always the only one I tried to please.”

“And you took me to see the world.”

“I remember every place.” His eyes didn’t leave mine.

I hesitated, the fire popping softly. “But I don’t remember how we fell in love.”

Calroy kissed my forehead, his eyes gleaming like gemstones. “I fell first.” He sat up but continued to cover our bodies with his wings. “You didn’t trust a god who ruled the sky. You said I cared more for what’s above than anything below me.”

“Sounds accurate.” I snickered.

That earned a low laugh. “So I had to work for your affection. I studied what made you laugh. What made you happy. I learned you before I took the leap to tell you how I felt.”

“And I just fell for you?”

“No.” His hand found mine, thumb grazing slow circles over my skin. “You made me earn every inch. Took longer than I’d like to admit.”

“That sounds like something I would do.” I snorted, searching his face, that old ache sharpening again. “I still don’t understand why the other gods would turn on us.”

His jaw tightened, the firelight catching the shift. “They didn’t like our closeness.”

“Why?” I already knew the answer, but I wanted to hear it from Calroy.

“Jealousy.” He kissed the back of my hand. “And fear. They saw what we could become together. They also feared we’d be rid of them.”

“We wouldn’t.” I moaned when he pulled me against him. I straddled him, my legs on either side of his waist.

He cradled my face. “We are good gods, Yeri. We never wanted their thrones. We only wanted each other.”