Page 85 of Of Sword & Silver

I bite my lower lip, running my palm up the hard plane of his chest.

“What are you doing?” he asks, his warm, rum-scented breath a caress against my forehead.

“What I think we’ve both wanted for a while now,” I answer, standing up on my tiptoes. My palm slides up to his cheek and he sighs, leaning into it in a sweet way I never would have expected from him.

It makes me feel vulnerable.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” I blurt out, scrambling to blot out that weak sensation.

“Is that what you want?” he says, that heat in his eyes growing. No, not hate at all. Intensity, yes. Scary, also yes, a little. But hate? No.

“Isn’t that what you want?” I tilt my head, tickling my fingers along his cheekbone. “Or are you afraid you’re too old to keep up with me?”

His expression darkens at the reminder of how fundamentally different we are and I go still, nervous I’ve pushed too far.

Until his arm goes around my waist, dragging me into him, his fingers digging into my hip. His other hand pushes at my unbound hair, tucking it behind my ear before clasping the back of my neck.

“I have thousands of years of experience,” he drawls in a slow, lazy tone I haven’t heard before. A shiver of anticipation goes up my spine. “I can make you come in ways you never even imagined.”

“Mmmmm,” I say, twisting my lips to the side. “Never imagined? I think you’re underestimating my creativity, oh ancient one.”

“I doubt it,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my forehead, my cheek.

I melt into him, my fingertips tracing the hard edge of his cheekbone.

“Are you sure?” he whispers into my ear, his hand dipping into the waist of my pants.

“If you are, I am,” I answer easily. “Caedia’s right, we should get it out of our system, you know? Have a little fun.”

“It wouldn’t be just a little fun with you,” he murmurs, and I moan as his teeth scrape against my earlobe. “I would ruin you for all others.”

“Well, you could certainly try,” I say, gasping as his fingers run lower, nearly touching me where I’m wet and wanting, teasing me.

“No,” he says, matter of fact. “I would not just try. I would succeed, and it wouldn’t be for fun, or to get it out of your system. And I think until you can admit that to yourself, you should keep your distance from me.”

I reel as his hands leave my skin, leaving me cold and trembling.

“I’ll sleep upstairs. Don’t even think about midnight wandering,” he says.

I’ve never disliked him more than I do right now, in this moment, when he closes the door to the cellar, leaving me open-mouthed and half-drunk and impossibly frustrated.

“Fuck you, Sword,” I yell up.

“In your dreams, maybe,” he yells back.

Oooh, I’m going to kill him for this.

30

THE SWORD

Iam a fool.

I lie awake, the sound of the fire crackling in the hearth competing with the raging wind blowing snow outside.

My self-control is slipping around Kyrie, everything about her a siren’s call to my very soul.

Just as fate knew she would be.

---