Page 20 of Claws of Death

“Be careful out there,”Kaira warns me as Myron leads the way into the thicket along the outer wall of the rocks housing the cave.

“I always am,”I reassure her, smiling to myself about how many times I’ve bemoaned that I had no one who cared if I lived or died. That was then—at Fort Perenis. Now, I have a family. A sister, a mate, friends—“You make sure not to antagonize Herinor too much while I’m gone. He’s a sensitive little bird.”

Her chuckle sounds in my mind as I imagine Herinor as a small, fragile crow. “He’s a bloodthirsty monster who’ll eat the hearts of his enemies—and his friends if we’re not careful.”When I don’t respond, she adds, “You know what he is, know his past. You experienced his ruthlessness first-hand.”

“But I also experienced his determination to do things right this time around,”I remind her. He left me behind in the dungeon, but he saved Myron. He did what he could without outright breaking the deal he made with Ephegos. And he’s still alive, so there must be some wiggle room.

I don’t tell her all of that. If she isn’t already aware, she’ll probably pick it from my mind anyway.

She doesn’t comment, or I’m out of reach for our mental communication.

“Just a little farther,” Myron says, his gaze on the shades of dark emerald that is the forest surrounding us.

A little bit ahead, I can make out the gurgling of water twining with the lament of a nightbird. Nocturnal animals scurry through the undergrowth at our approach, and the wind carries the scent of fall and magic.

“How far north are we?” I glance at the patches of sky, the hints of pink kissing wispy clouds.

Dawn is about to break, and I’ll need to face reality soon enough, but for now, I relish the blanket of fading night.

A moment later, Myron turns right, gently pulling me along until we stand at the edge of what is more a tiny lake than a pond. Steam rises from the surface, stirred into rippling waves by the cool breeze. Dense greenery blocks the scenery from view on three sides while, on one side, it collides with the slanted rock we’ve been following.

“The water is warmer than the air,” Myron comments when he notices my shiver.

It’s not because of the crisp temperature or the wind, though; his proximity radiates enough heat to warm us both. Now that we’re alone, I’m acutely aware of his naked torso, the muscles flexing in his arm as he lets go of my hand to step closer to the pond. Suddenly, breathing becomes a challenge.

He’s beautiful, from the raven waves on his head to his booted feet. My gaze follows the length of his spine, lined with cords of strength, to the expanse of his shoulders where, on one side, a frame of night-stark ink outlines the shape of a crow mid-flight. The intricate swirls expand to his bicep and curl up his neck, disappearing into his hair.

His shoulders rise and fall in a slow rhythm as he stares out at the water—and I stare at him, spellbound like I’m seeing him for the first time. Then he drops the bundle of fabric in his hand and shucks his boots, reaching for the waistband of his simple cotton pants at the same time. I hold my breath, ready to be caught staring as he exposes his backside fully. But Myron doesn’t look at me as he strips out of his clothes and wades into the water until every last inch of his powerful legs has been swallowed up, and my gaze lands on his ass once more. When that disappears beneath the surface, too, I realize my dry mouth, my tied tongue, my shaky hands.

He turns around, running wet fingers through his hair in an attempt to tame the black mass. The hard grooves and edges of his chest and abdomen ripple with every move, drawing my eyes to glide along what’s visible of his body. But it’s the wicked grin on his lips that holds them captive as he gestures at my travel-worn, magic-assaulted dress.

“Take your time, Ayna.”

My heart is a violent drum in my chest, my body a mess of shivers—and not the bad kind. Because this is my mate staring at me with depthless ocean eyes, inviting me to join him in the water.

We don’t have time. Erina is probably already searching for me, and Ephegos’s wrath will find us wherever we go, but for now, I don’t care. I tune out every last bit of the world that doesn’t belong in this moment where Myron’s full focus is on me, and his lips part, sucking in a sharp breath as I raise my hand to the neckline of my dress and peel it off my right shoulder first, then shove it down over my left, until the already damaged fabric tears on the side and the whole thing comes sliding down my torso. It catches on my hips, and I wonder if I should let it linger, enjoy Myron’s hungry gaze roving my chest, watching my nipples peak as if he’d just touched them with those capable hands of his.

The heat pooling between my legs advises me otherwise, though, and a moment later, I step out of the dress, dropping it in a bunched heap on the ground.

Myron’s eyes burn with longing, his fingers absently stroking the surface of the water as if he’s imagining touching me, and I’ll give it to him, I can almost feel his phantom hands on me.

I don’t think I’ve ever watched Myron as intensely as I’m watching him now: the way his eyes darken when they meet mine, the power in each gentle motion, the sheen of moisture he leaves behind on his lower lip as his tongue sweeps over it.

I’m exhausted, drained from using my magic, hungry from days of travel and weeks of not eating properly, but in this moment, I’m alive. I’m awake. And my entire body lights up under Myron’s gaze.

“You are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.” His hands still, and so does the breeze caressing my skin. Like a bubble of safety, his magic wraps around us, gently brushing up against my arm, my waist.

My lids shutter at the overwhelming intensity of this single sensation, and I wonder if I’ll combust when he puts his hands on me instead.

“Even with the dirt and grime of travel?” Stepping into the water, I give him a grin, and Guardians save me, he was right.

The water is perfect, a few degrees warmer than the air, almost like a hot spring. I can’t hold back a groan as I wade deeper into the pond, allowing Myron’s magic to guide me until I’m a few steps from him and the water reaches the edge of my ribs.

“Even covered in blood, you’d be a sight to behold.” He moves closer, but his hands remain at his sides, just visible beneath the surface, not reluctant to touch me but idle, waiting for me to make the first move. The water reaches just below his hip bones now, barely covering his arousal.

Closing my eyes so I won’t succumb to the temptation just yet, I sink into the warm depths, rinsing off all traces of my captivity until my skin tingles and my lungs protest. When I come up, strands of hair cover my breasts, and the cool air raises goosebumps on my skin. The heat in my core is still there, though, and the longer we standface to face, Myron a mere arm’s length away, the harder the beating of my heart, the stronger the sensation in my shoulder right where the crow mark connects us, calling, calling, calling, until I can’t stop myself and I close the distance separating us.

Nothing has ever felt so good as crashing against him like a wave, our bodies sliding around each other as he wraps his arms around my waist, lifting me while I lock my legs around his hips. He lowers himself into the water so we’re covered up to the shoulders, and Guardians, his hands?—

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