Page 107 of The Reckoning of Starlight

Lykor’s pulse knocked steadily beneath Jassyn’s palms while Jassyn’s own battered his throat. He counted the beats until the rhythm gave his mind something solid to hold.

The soldiers showed no sign of moving on. As Lykor kept watch, Jassyn cataloged every point of contact between them—hip to hip, the ridge of armor beneath his fingers, each exhale warming the narrow space between their mouths.

Every nerve in Jassyn recognized the position—pinned against walls and bedframes by those who took what they wanted.

But Lykor’s weight never shifted from shielding to claiming.

Even in the dark, when they slept close enough to touch, Lykor had never mistaken nearness for permission. He’d waited for Jassyn to close the distance, and Jassyn had let him keep waiting because asking for more meant admitting his body still knew how to want.

He was ready to admit it now.

The last hands on him had belonged to those who never asked, their touch still lodged in his skin. He wanted Lykor’s instead, to remember what it was to choose.

He was done being the reason Lykor waited.

Jassyn turned Lykor’s face toward him and kissed him.

His mouth met Lykor’s, hard and graceless. Lykor went rigid, still listening beyond the shadows for the patrol, standing only a few paces away.

Then his vigilance rearranged itself around the kiss. His palm settled behind Jassyn’s neck, and he kissed him back.

Jassyn caught a fistful of his hair and pulled. Lykor followed, chest pressing flush to his, heat bleeding through the leather as bark dug into Jassyn’s back. Fangs caught Jassyn’s lower lip and tugged. A helpless sound rose in Jassyn’s throat, and he tensed at the risk of the noise. Lykor swallowed it before the sound could carry, tongue sliding between Jassyn’s lips as the kiss deepened.

Their breaths rasped, hot and uneven.

Beyond Lykor’s veil of darkness, one soldier finally ordered the patrol onward.

Lykor didn’t break the kiss until their footsteps had faded into the trees. Even then, he withdrew only far enough to track their retreat, his mouth hovering near Jassyn’s while crimson burned through the dark.

“Now who’s the reckless one?” Lykor murmured, his voice low and rough beside Jassyn’s ear.

As Jassyn dragged air back into his lungs, Lykor’s touch remained imprinted across his body. A patrol had stood only paces away, and Jassyn had kissed him anyway. Lykor had earned the last word.

Lykor rolled his shoulders, indigo skin shimmering dark with the motion. “Probably better if I stay wraith for this anyway.” His gaze cut toward the retreating patrol, then back to Jassyn. “In the event you’re inspired to compromise our position again.”

Jassyn released a quiet huff then steered himself back to the reason they were here. “Can you warp us to the canopy? The light’s still low enough for your cloaking. Their camp must be close.”

Lykor nodded, already scanning the distant crowns, and offered his claw. “Speak into my mind once we’re in position.”

Jassyn closed his fingers around Lykor’s, and darkness engulfed them.

Bark met Jassyn’s boots for an instant before the world vanished again. Lykor warped them from crown to crown, the low murmur of the waking army swelling with every jump. On the final one, Jassyn’s boots struck a high branch above the outer ranks, open air on every side.

Lykor guided him into the crook where the trunk met the branch and recloaked them. Jassyn braced both palms against the tree until everything stopped spinning, then turned his attention toward the army below.

The rainforest opened around a vast clearing, its edges ragged with felled trees. Firelight mapped the rigid formation. Tents occupied the center in disciplined rows, while bedrolls spread outward in concentric rings.

Most of the soldiers still slept, but those along the perimeter had begun to stir—figures sitting up, feeding low fires, and fastening armor in the dimness. Bodies filled every space between—tens of thousands, the farthest disappearing into the gray of early morning.

“They’re more organized than the humans who laid siege to your fortress,” Jassyn said into Lykor’s mind.

Lykor’s fingers tightened around the branch. “The tents likely belong to the Essence-wielders. We could strike.” His gaze cut to a large tent. “Kill them one by one.”

“I want a solution with less blood.”

Lykor shot him a scowl. “That is less blood. Killing their leaders would fracture their command and buy us time.”

Jassyn shook his head. Even Lykor couldn’t end enough of them before the first alarm roused the camp. “Another officer would take their place. We’d gain a night at most.”