Page 118 of Secrets of Graves and Gold

“Not like they do,” I say, tilting my head in the direction she came from.

Ivy’s mouth twists. “Rheave?—”

“I want to really matter to you.”

All at once, it feels immensely important that I make this much clear. That she understands what she means to me before I do… whatever I decide I have to do.

I let the arrow slip from my fingers as I step closer, bringing one hand to her cheek, the other to the fall of her hair by her neck. The softness of those waves against my fingers sends a tingle over my skin.

She is so loving and so strong, so willing to risk herself to save me no matter what danger I’ve put myself and her in. The most incredible part of this incredible world.

Ivy draws in a breath as if to speak, but I start first. “I want to be here for you the way they are. I want… I want to be able to make you smile and laugh like simply being near me brightens your life. I want to be able to touch you and know my presence makes you feel safe and happy. It’s like a kind of magic, how they are with you—how you are with them— I don’t know how to conjure that kind of joy, but if I did, I’d never leave.”

My fingers have traced down her cheek to her jaw. A quiver passes through Ivy’s body.

She lets out a strained little sound, and then she’s bobbing up on her toes to brush her lips to mine.

Oh. This—this is what kissing is meant to be. The sensation of our mouths pressing together sparks a heat nothing like the careful overtures I offered to less intimate places before.

I cup her jaw and adjust my head, trying to find the angle where our lips meld together most perfectly. The hint of a gasp that spills on her breath to mingle with mine sends another jolt of heat straight to the appendage between my legs.

By all the gods, there’s so much more I want than I even fully recognized. Every inch of my body aches to align with hers, to soak up her warmth and the softness of her skin beneath her clothes.

My other hand falls to her waist, instinctively tugging her closer against me. But the gesture must startle Ivy.

She stumbles backward, a flush spreading up her neck to her cheeks. She presses her hand to her lips. “I?—”

Then she seems to master herself, with all the fortitude I’m used to. Lifting her chin, she grabs the arrow I dropped and slings the quiver over her shoulder.

She fixes me with a firm gaze. “You matter a lot, Rheave. You—you remind me of how much joy a person can find in the world. Why it’s worth going through all this awfulness to protect this country. It would hurt me a lot more to lose you than to help you deal with the assholes who made your body. Please, come back with me.”

So many emotions are colliding inside me that I’m afraid to move. She came to me—but then she pulled away. I’m not sure if I can do the right thing when I want so much.

The idea of walking straight back to face the men she wouldn’t hesitate to embrace only sets me even more off-kilter.

I wet my lips. “I’ll come. But I need… a few minutes. By myself. To be sure I’m totally in control now.”

I don’t say exactly what I need to control. To my relief, Ivy doesn’t ask.

She aims a determined finger at me. “I can give you that, but you have to promise me you’re not going to hurt yourself. Or leave. You can take some time to think, but then you’ll come back to the camp, and we’ll keep doing things that matter.”

I’d like to ask whether the things that matter could include more proper kissing, but I sense that isn’t a wise direction of conversation at the moment. There’s too much giddiness and light in the tangled sensations rippling through my veins for me to even consider going through with my former intentions until I’ve seen where this could lead. “I promise. I won’t leave. I wouldn’t do anything that would hurt you on purpose.”

“Good. I’ll go see what everyone else is thinking. But whatever plan we come up with, I’m sure it’ll include you too.”

She strides off between the trees, leaving me staring after her in a daze.

Has she pulled me back from the brink of a tragedy—or straight toward one?

Thirty-Three

Ivy

Amusement rings through Julita’s coy voice. Well. The daimon too, hmm? He is rather something to look at, but I have to admit, I didn’t see that coming.

“Hush,” I mutter, hefting Rheave’s quiver higher on my shoulder and peering through the forest for a sign of our newly formed camp.

Heat is still coursing under my skin from that kiss—from the way the daimon-man’s hands started to move over my body?—

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