Page 104 of The Vanishing Throne

Falconers always die young. Always. I wish those words weren’t true. I wish he were human or that I were fae and we had a thousand lifetimes to do this.

His hands are on either side of my face, the gentlest of touches. ‘Aoram dhuit.’

I will worship thee.

‘You said it was a pledge. Do I make it, too?’

‘No, Kam.’His eyes lock with mine just before he presses a kiss to the pulse of my throat. Then his lips are at my ear, whispering, ‘You let me honor my words.’

I can’t hold back any more. Before I realise, I’m grabbing him by the front of his shirt, and my back is to the wall and I’m kissing him and kissing him and kissing him. He laughs with surprise as I reach for the buttons of his shirt – undoing one, two, three – until he impatiently rips it off.

Then his lips are on mine again. On my cheek, my shoulder, lower. Our clothes are tossed aside and I have a brief glimpse of his muscular, gleaming body before he presses me to the wall. Kiaran grips my thighs, lifting me to wrap my legs around his waist.

He keeps his promise. I can’t get enough of his lips, his kisses, his hands, his touch, everywhere.

And I finally know what it means to be worshipped.

Chapter 34

Sometime in the night I open my eyes to find Kiaran asleep beside me. We’re facing each other, our bare legs tangled together beneath the heavy counterpane. The near-full moon shines bright enough through the window that his features are illuminated, the sheen of his pearlescent skin catching in the light.

In all the time I’ve known Kiaran, I’ve never seen him sleep. It softens his features. He looks younger, almost vulnerable. He holds me in a tight embrace, his fingers curled in my hair, and something about the gesture makes me feel safe, comforted.

What draws my gaze are the markings across his shoulders and down his arms. I know from kissing them earlier that they stretch down his torso and across his entire back, beautiful swirled designs upraised along his skin as if cut there by a fine blade. I reach to touch them with my fingertips.

Kiaran’s lips curve into a smile. ‘Do you like what you see?’

Damn. I flush, my face hot, and snatch my hand back. ‘How do you do that? How do you always manage to catch me staring?’

‘Mmm.’ Kiaran pulls me closer, kissing me softly on my forehead, my cheek, the curve of my neck. Featherlight touches that bring back the memory of his hands, his lips, everywhere. ‘I’m an excellent guesser,’ he tells me.

‘Oh? Then what am I thinking right now?’

‘That you like this.’ Kiaran’s hand slides down to my hip. ‘That you want us to stay this way.’

Something about the way he says it makes me go still. ‘You think we won’t?’

‘Kam—’

‘Wait.’ I press a finger to his lips. ‘I’ve changed my mind. Don’t answer that.’

Kiaran looks amused. ‘What shall I say, then?’

‘Something else. So then I don’t have to think about you and me or Lonnrach or wherever that bloody crystal is. What’s your favouritecolour? Do you have a favourite colour? To how many places can you recite pi?’

‘Kam.’

‘No. Not that. Let’s start over.’ I prop my chin in my hands. ‘Tell me—’ Kiaran’s lips brush mine. ‘Tell me …’ He kisses me again, harder. What was I going to say? I can’t recall. ‘You’re doing that on purpose.’

‘I learned it from you,’ Kiaran says. ‘Improvization.’

I should have known he’d use that kiss after the wisp attack against me. ‘Very clever.’

‘You said to start over.’ Kiaran trails his lips down my jaw. ‘Shall we begin again? I’m Kiaran.’ Another kiss. ‘You’re Kam.’ Another. ‘Pleased to meet you.’

I laugh. ‘Introductions don’t generally include kisses, MacKay.’

‘This one does.’

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