Page 32 of Spark of the Everflame

My lust cooled slightly as I shot him a sharp look. “If that’s how you feel, then...”

I started to climb off him, and he groaned as he grabbed my hips to pull me back.

“Fine,” he mumbled, reaching for my bag and fishing out the vial of green liquid. He swallowed it quickly and smirked. “Now can I get back to ravishing you?”

I held my arms out. “Ravish away.”

He climbed over me and kissed me deeply, though it was more of a tender caress than passionate zeal.

“I missed this,” he whispered as he moved down my body and laid a trail of feather-light kisses past my navel.

Even in the haze of desire, Henri’s touch was soft and protective. That was the way he’d always been with me—gentle to a fault.

His previous lovers had been the sweet, quiet girls. The ones with shy smiles and ribbons in their hair, who never said an unkind word and managed to get along with everyone. I’d teased him for it, but in truth, I’d been secretly jealous. Not only for their relationships with him, but for that delicate beauty a part of me wanted so badly to emulate.

But I was made of swinging fists and rash words, my edges too jagged and my temper too hot. Nothing about me wasdelicate.

Sometimes I wondered whether Henri’s tastes had changed or whether he thought he saw something different in me—the nurturing healer who had stepped up to care for her family in her mother’s absence.

But I didn’t choose to be a healer, nor did I choose to take my mother’s role.

And I didn’t want gentle or delicate.

I wanted toburn.

I ripped the rest of my clothes away and flipped Henri around until his shoulders sank back against the bedroll. His eyes went wide, then closed with a groan of pleasure as I settled on top of him.

My name tore from his lips like a swear. He reached up to touch me, but I pinned his arms to the ground, the vulnerable part of me feeding off the control. I threw back my head, and I gave my body to the inferno.

And I burned.

I burned as we moved together, breathing each other’s names until we both glistened with sweat despite the chilly air. I burned as I rocked furiously against him in a desperate bid to chase the thoughts of what—and who—awaited me back in Lumnos.

But even after we each found our release and collapsed in each other’s arms, the flames inside me refused to die. They grew ever higher, stoked by restless frustration, scorching my skin from the inside out.

Even when Henri’s arms curled around me and the rise and fall of his chest slowed into the steady rhythm of sleep, I stared at the depthless midnight sky, my thoughts as turbulent as they’d ever been, and I burned and I burned and I burned.

And I wondered how long I had until the fire in my soul burned me alive.

ChapterEight

Iknew why I was here.

My mind kicked and thrashed at it, screamed in refusal, even though I knew my defiance was futile. My legs turned south, carrying me down the familiar, dimly lit road. With every step, I whimpered internally, begging to turn around or choose another path.

I knew where my feet would stop before it came into view. I braced for it, held my breath as I rounded the corner. Desperately, I willed my eyes to look away, but the effort was wasted. I’d fought and lost this battle too many times.

Just as it had before, a glimpse of coppery hair captured my gaze. My mother’s back was to me, her body cloaked, facing a towering man in elegant clothing and expensive accessories.

In all the many times I’d had this dream, his face had always been fuzzy and indefinite, like a forgotten word hovering on the tip of my tongue.

This time, he stood out in stark, vivid detail.

Eyes like chips of ice. A knife-sharp jaw. Dark eyebrows that seemed permanently furrowed.

Prince Luther.

My mother’s shoulders were tense, her hands gesturing emphatically. The Prince kept his face close and voice low, eyes narrowed to slits, fists clenched at his sides.

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