Page 64 of A Song of Ash and Moonlight

He softened his words with another touch to my wrist, but as sweet as the sensation was, I suddenly couldn’t stand to be there anymore. Gareth and his awful behavior, and Mara tolerating it when he didn’t deserve it, and Gemma and Talan holding hands in the corner, their heads bent close together in some kind of lovers’ conference—I felt suffocated by all of them and by the lofty raftered room’s buzz of noise and laughter. And then there was Ryder: too close to me, so big and warm on the bench beside me that it didn’t take much for my mind to start imagining whatwewould look like if we huddled together like Gemma and Talan were doing. Ryder’s muscled body looming over my thinner, smaller one; his calloused hands touching my face as Talan was touching Gemma’s. What would he whisper in my ear? What would it feel like to be so utterly enraptured by another person that I couldn’t be bothered to notice the world around me?

“I’m going to bed,” I announced. “I’m tired, and I don’t need to be here for this.” Indignantly, wearily, I waved at the whole table and clambered out from between Gareth and Ryder, the latter of whom quickly moved to accommodate me. I grabbed the key from Mara, shooting her a look of thanks for not pestering me to stay.

Upstairs, I found the room I was to share with Mara: room eight, clean and tidy, with a huge rickety bed set against the wall and a smallhearth crackling warmly in the corner. The bed looked inviting, the chair by the fire cozy, but all I could do was pace across the floor, my body such a snarl of annoyance and longing and confused anger that I had no idea how to begin untangling it.

Then came a quiet knock at the door.

I stormed across the room to fling it open, expecting to see Gareth, come to apologize, or Mara, concerned for me and abruptly tired of Gareth’s unforgivable intrusiveness.

But instead, Ryder stood there on the threshold, looking grave and abashed, a thoughtful frown under his fearsome beard. Gemma had released his glamour, and mine too.

“I’m sorry for behaving like that,” he told me gruffly. His blue gaze traveled over my face, then fell to the floor. “Forgive me.”

“Forgiveyou?” I was momentarily startled enough to find what remained of my tattered wits. “You weren’t the one fawning over my sister like some lovestruck boy rather than a grown man who ought to know how to control his selfish impulses.”

A corner of Ryder’s mouth quirked up. “No, but I dismissed your concerns. I made light of them. And I shouldn’t joke about my sister.”

“You can joke about whatever you like. I’m certainly not one to tell you, or anyone, how to grieve, how to be afraid.”

“Still, it was in poor taste.”

I laughed a little. “That’s never stopped you before.” Immediately I winced. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. I really am just tired.”

I turned away from him then, resumed my furious pacing.

Ryder observed me for a moment. “You don’t look tired. You look like you want to punch something.” He paused. “Perhaps you’d like to?”

“No. Yes.Yes.” I didn’t dare stop pacing; if I did, I wasn’t sure what I would say or do. I suspected I would start crying out of sheer bewildered rage, the thought of which was appalling. “Fine. Close the door.”

Ryder obeyed, then began clearing the center of the room, deftlysidestepping my warpath. He rolled up the tattered rag rug, pushed it to the side, then assessed the space with a critical eye. “I wonder if we can move the bed,” he mused.

The thought of Ryder doing anything near or with the bed I was meant to sleep in made me burn. I altered my path so he couldn’t see my face, feeling angrier, more confused, more annoyed with every step. I couldn’t put out of my mind the sensation of Ryder’s hand on the tender skin of my wrist—such a little touch, not something that would send anyone else I knew spiraling into such a state, and yet it had completely unraveled me. Unbidden, the thought sprang to mind of Ryder kissing me in his stable—his hands lifting me up against him, his lips feathering gentle kisses down my neck.

Remembering the sensation left me feeling shaky, uncertain. My chest drew tight with longing. “My enemies won’t make nice and move furniture to make room for me,” I snapped. “Leave it.”

He grunted in agreement. “Fair enough.” I heard him shift, saw him raise his fists out of the corner of my eye. “Now—”

“No. Wait.” I paused, staring at the corner, then turned and went to him before I could stop myself. Maybe it was the memory of his kisses driving me to do a mad thing, or maybe I trulywasjust exhausted and therefore vulnerable to ridiculous urges. Whatever the reason, I marched over to him and stopped only inches away. I lifted my arms as if to draw him into an embrace, then put them awkwardly down at my sides. He stood watching me, a question in his eyes, his fists still half raised for a fight.

“Farrin?” he said quietly.

I took a breath, let it out. Made myself look up at him. Told him, my chest aching with sudden, blazing need, “I want you to kiss me.”

Chapter 14

Ryder lowered his arms, looked warily at me. “Kiss you?” He sounded absolutely baffled.

I started backing away, humiliated. “Unless you don’t want to.”

“No. I mean, yes.” He let out a breathless little laugh. “Farrin.” He reached for me, then put his hands at his sides, just as I had done. He looked at the floor between us. “Farrin, I think about kissing you literally every day. I dream of you. I…” His gaze flicked up to meet mine. “Wantingyou is not the issue. I want you. I want everything about you.”

I felt dizzy with him looking at me like that—a hulking mountain of a man with eyes as blue as a summer sky and raven-dark hair that I knew from experience was much softer than it looked. The expression on his face was one of unmistakable yearning, as if he were seeing the sun rise after a long, cold darkness. It softened him, made him look younger.

I found my courage and stepped toward him. “Then kiss me like you did that day,” I whispered. “Please, Ryder.”

He came to me then, so close I could feel his breath against my lips and just far enough away that my knees went liquid with desperate need. I ached for him to lower his head and touch his mouth to mine.

But instead he said, very low, “Farrin, you’re upset. And you told me…” His mouth thinned. He touched his brow to mine, cradled my face so gently in his hands that I let out a soft cry of wanting, a noise I didn’t know I could make.

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