Page 135 of Dare

No, we had to preserve this fortress and its history. Which meant our clan had unearthed proof we couldn’t use.

But there had to be another way, a different key. Maybe it was connected. Maybe I was supposed to bring this knowledge back in another form, without telling people about this rainforest’s location, without revealing the map or the ruins.

And if there was, I would find it.

***

For a precious week, we lived in a dreamscape. Jeryn and I introduced our clan to the forest’s magic, including its treasures and dangers and rainfall, the better for everyone to protect themselves. I also presented my fauna pack to them, thrilled when the animals pranced around Aspen’s legs and made her chuckle, the spectacle tipping Aire’s mouth into a fond smile.

We combat-trained throughout the ruins, using every level as a mock battleground. Poet switched between his staff and a set of daggers, his sculpted chest dripping, his body twisting and spinning as if he was made of liquid. Briar challenged him by throwing a series of thorn quills, the couple’s movements syncing. Their eyes magnetized to each other, the fight akin to a mating dance, the princess’s gaze on her husband’s elastic muscles, his eyes fixating on every part of her. I predicted their clothes wouldn’t stay on for very long after practice.

Aire flew through the ruins with his broadswords, his body moving like a gale. He crossed blades with Jeryn, who brandished one of the ancient swords from the armory crypt. Both men stood as shirtless as Poet, the vision stunning as the jester cut into the fray, skewering his staff between the two fighters. Skin and sinew glistened with sweat, the alpha energy palpable.

Aspen had traveled to another level, to throw her axe at targets. She’d left the moment Aire had stripped off his vest and fretted over the girl staying out of harm’s way. To which she had flipped her middle digit and sashayed in the opposite direction, a blush nonetheless tinting her fingers.

I waited for my turn. Gulping water from a canteen, Briar panted beside me and feasted on the jester, while my gaze clung to Jeryn’s marble torso, the contours hard and smooth. His movements were more systematic than the other two, aloof and direct and cutthroat.

That body had been inside me. Those hips had snapped with abandon between my thighs.

I clenched my thighs, then got sick of waiting. I needed to move, to stab something, to throw a punch. Leaping between the men took them off guard. Instead of using Poet’s old dagger—it gratified him to discover I still had it—I switched to my parents’ machete, which I’d polished after retrieving it from the underwater boulder.

Ducking beneath Aire’s broadsword, I twisted and used my weapon to block Poet’s staff. Then I swerved the other way and threw my fist toward Jeryn’s jaw.

Because I’d learned plenty from my brawls against the tower guards, and the prince had witnessed one of those matches, he saw this maneuver coming and blocked the move with his bent forearm. We paused, our gazes colliding. I felt that look down to my core, which had grown wet from watching him wield that knife in nothing but loose pants, his mane affixed into a bun at his nape.

Our companions dissolved into the background. Aire strode off while muttering something indecipherable. Poet and Briar disappeared, likely to have their way with each other.

Jeryn and I careened forward. My weapon crossed with his, our exhalations ramming together. His eyes dropped to my mouth, and mine did the same.

I realized the group had left us alone on purpose. And this was real. This marvel between us was so very real, and there was no going back.

Exhilarated, I called him out. “Stop holding back.”

Jeryn blinked. He hadn’t been going easy on me, because he knew what I could handle. Yet those pupils blackened, because he also knew one other thing as I broke our stance and sidled away. I hadn’t only been talking about the training.

***

We swam in a jeweled pond. Or rather, four of us swam. Jeryn and Aspen elected to watch, one wary of siren sharks and the other picking at the ground.

Outfitted in a skimpy one-piece garment meant for bathing, Briar rendered Poet speechless. The dark green material gleamed like an emerald, and the low V dipping down the front offered scallop-edged hints of her breasts.

I wore nothing, my unshod heels kicking up sand as I dove naked into the waves. At my exposure, Jeryn’s jaw tightened, mayhem storming in his pupils. His mercenary gaze checked Poet and Aire’s reactions. But hailing from Spring, with a sexual history that outdid every citizen on the continent, and having eyes only for the princess, Poet wasn’t fazed in the slightest. In fact, he would have stripped as well, were it not for the youth in our midst.

Aire averted his eyes out of discretion, his discomfort having less to do with Jeryn’s scowl and more to do with Autumn propriety. Instead, the knight monitored Aspen as she roamed the shore gathering cockles. Ever the watchful soldier, her safety remained his priority.

Maybe this penchant had to do with the little brother Aire had lost—a born soul who died at a young age, a tragedy the soldier had confided about during one of our fireside meals. Maybe Aspen reminded Aire of that boy. Or she reminded him of Poet and Briar’s son, Nicu, whom the knight also guarded in Autumn. Either way, he’d taken to looking out for Aspen, regardless of how often she tried to dissuade him.

Unable to rip his gaze away, the jester prowled his wife through the water while she chuckled. At the chase’s end, Briar wrapped herself around his toned body, and he gripped the back of her head, their mouths clutching in a heated kiss.

My eyes stole toward Jeryn, who swerved his gaze from my own. We hadn’t touched since the ocean, much less allowed ourselves to occupy the same space alone, avoiding the subject of where to go from here.

Until him, I had never feared the unknown. Yet the memories of every moan and shudder kept me awake at night, as I stroked the cleft of my body and pictured his face. Each time, I wedged a fist into my mouth. Crying out against my knuckles muffled the commotion, the noises detectable only this man could hear, the short distance between our chambers a punishment and an enticement.

Our clan plotted, envisioning a future continent with all Seasons united. Over firelit talks, the princess would recline her back against the jester’s chest, his arms linking around her middle and his chin resting on her shoulder. Aire would sit opposite them, and Aspen would perch on low branches or window seats. As for me and Jeryn, we took up chairs opposite from one another—whether to keep our distance or soak up unhampered views of each other, I couldn’t say.

***

I ventured to the fountain room at dawn, eager to dip my toes into the stream—only to stall in my tracks.

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