Page 31 of Spark of the Everflame

The bright orange flames of my anger shifted to a dark, hungry red at his touch.

“Hi,” he murmured, laying a soft kiss on my shoulder.

“Hi.” I tilted my head to the side in silent invitation, my eyes fluttering closed.

His lips slowly trailed up the curve of my neck. “You still have that look on your face, you know.”

“What look?”

“The ‘I’m in the mood to murder someone’ look.” His thumb burrowed its way under the hem of my tunic and dragged idle lines back and forth along the sensitive skin of my stomach. “What were you thinking about?”

Leaving this place behind and making a new life for myself across the continent.

“Something you said earlier,” I answered instead. “What were your exact words—something about getting to know my enemy... ‘intimately’?”

He laughed, his breath tickling my neck. “I take it back. There’s only one person I want you getting to knowintimately.”

On the last word, his hand moved up my ribcage and brushed the swell of my breast, sending a bolt of desire thrumming through me.

“Or perhaps I’ll just have to makeyoumy enemy.” I reached back and palmed the blade that hung on his hip before moving down his muscled thigh.

“In that case, I surrender now.” He pulled me against his hips until I could feel exactly what part of him he intended to surrender.

My back arched, a quiet breath rushing out of me. “Surrender? What a shame. I much prefer a good fight.”

I turned and clutched his collar, then tugged him down until our lips collided. My kiss was fierce and demanding, channeling my scorching emotions as our tongues danced in deep, longing strokes.

“Diem,” he breathed, resting his forehead to mine. “It’s been too long.”

It had been months since we’d touched each other like this.

It began last spring, when a balmy evening and too much ale had driven us to strip bare and dive into the sea. Our naked bodies had found each other in the moonlight and shed the platonic innocence of our youth.

Neither of us had been each other’s firsts, but we had been the first to mean something. The first to join the passion of physical touch with the intimacy of a kindred spirit.

And then my mother disappeared and my life fell apart, and I had desperately needed the simplicity of a friend with no expectations. Henri had stepped back into that role without complaint, ready to be whatever and whoever my grief needed him to be.

But the ensuing months had changed us both. Our sweet naivete had fled town right alongside my mother. We’d both grown harder, angrier, our souls calloused from life and loss.

Though I still cared for him as deeply as I ever had, I was no longer the laughing, carefree girl he had fallen for—and when I looked in his eyes, I struggled to find the tender-hearted boy I’d once known.

I wasn’t sure exactly where that left us now.

I twisted in his arms until my lips again found his. His rough hand grazed low on my spine, toying at my waistband. The lonely woman trapped inside my red-hot skin pleaded for more.

His other hand brushed against my elbow, and my mind dropped me right back into that morning at the royal palace. How I’d lost my wits in Prince Luther’s dominating touch, his piercing stare. His scar-torn face was seared into my thoughts. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his icy gaze watching me, studying me, judging me.

I was overcome with the need to burn the memory from existence. My ravenous hands shoved Henri’s shirt over his head and fumbled with the leather cord of his breeches, yanking at them impatiently. “These,” I growled. “Off.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered with a lopsided grin. He loosened the ties quickly and shoved the pants free of his legs, but before I could reach for him, he cupped his hands around the back of my thighs and hauled me up against his hips. I wove my fingers through his chestnut hair as he carried me over to our bedrolls and lowered us both to the ground. Within a few breathless pants, my tunic was off and tossed blindly over his shoulder.

“The contraceptive tonic,” I rushed out, my voice husky. “In my bag.”

Henri made a noncommittal sound as his mouth roamed my exposed skin, tasting my fire-warmed flesh.

“Henri.”

“Do we really need it?” he murmured against my throat. “Who are we to interfere with the Old Gods’ blessings?”

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