Page 68 of Vow of the Shadow King

Finally, Vor clears his throat. “I hope you will think well of me, Faraine.” Still, he does not look at me. His gaze is fixed on the dragon carved into the mantelpiece. “Your time here in Mythanar was full of peril and darkness. I know I contributed a great deal to both. But I hope your memories of me will dwell on whatever good I managed to show you rather than the bad. When you’re gone.”

“When I’m gone?” I echo softly. All the air seems to leave my lungs.

“Yes.” He says it again more firmly, “Yes.”

Suddenly, I’m not afraid anymore. Or rather, something other than fear rises to the surface of my heart, swallowing up all other feelings. I gaze across at Vor as realization rises, firms. Becomes conviction. For too long, I’ve let other people decide my fate. For too long, I’ve let them push and prod, manipulate and mold me into something I don’t even recognize, until I myself am lost.

No more. I know what I must do.

Without a word, I rise. Vor’s head comes up sharply, but I don’t look back. My fists clenched, my jaw set, I step away from the chairs, cross the bedchamber, my skirts rustling in my wake. I reach out to the door latch, make certain it’s fastened. And drop the bolt. Then carefully, delicately, I remove the tiara from my head. It sparkles as I set it on the table beside the water ewer.

Only now do I turn. Look at Vor.

“I don’t want us to be disturbed,” I say. “Not this time.”

His barriers fall. One after another, they simply melt away, and a storm of feeling rises inside him. He wants me. He wants me more than he can bear. It’s burning him up from the inside, an exquisite torture.

Slowly, I cross the room to him. Any moment, he might spring up and flee. But he doesn’t. Soon I stand before his chair, almost between his knees. For once, I look down at him. Down at that broad brow, knotted and tense. Down at those full lips, the warmth of which I know so well. He drops his gaze once more, stares down at my feet. But that won’t do. Not at all.

I lift one hand. Hold it beside his cheek, let it hover there, less than an inch from his skin. He breathes out, closes his eyes.

Then he leans into my touch. That mere contact sends my gods-gift singing, dancing. I catch my breath, unable to help the smile that bursts across my face. He looks up, abject longing in his eyes. Whatever doubts I may have harbored vanish.

I bring my other hand up, cup his face gently as I lower my lips to his. My kiss is light at first, a gentle pressure. Testing the waters, eager to discover how my senses will react to his. It’s all warmth, all sweetness, all delight. I press more firmly, nudging his lips open, urging him to receive me, to take everything I have to offer.

Vor surges to his feet. “No!” he cries. “No, no, no, we cannot do this.” Turning from me, he storms once more for the windows.

“Vor, stop!” I’ve never in my life used a tone so commanding. It works. He halts mid-step and stands as though rooted. “Tell me why not,” I demand. Lifting the edge of my skirts, I hasten to him. My gaze fixes on his tense spine, between his shoulder blades. “Give me one good reason why you won’t turn around and kiss me right now.”

“Because I’m sending you home!” The words break from his throat, low, agonized. “Today. Or tomorrow or the next day. It doesn’t matter because you are going. Sooner, not later.”

“But notnow.”I take another step closer. “This is our time. This is our moment. If we don’t take it, it may never come again.”

His hands are fisted at his sides. His whole soul shakes. Ordinarily, such a storm of feeling would be enough to drive me back. Not this time. I reach out but cannot quite bring myself to touch him. My hand hovers over his shoulder.

“I don’t care about the risks, Vor. I’m ready. I’m ready to risk it all because any risk is worth it to be with you. If this moment is all we ever have, I’m willing to accept whatever pain may come.” I blink hard, try to force back the tears sparking in my eyes. “I won’t live my life aching for what I never had the courage to take.”

“You feel that way now.” He shakes his head, breathing heavily. “What about later? You will feel I have used you. Taken from you that which was not mine.”

“No.” The word whispers from my trembling lips. “I will know only that I gave what I wished to give, and in that knowledge, I will be glad. Glad that for once I had a choice. And I made it. For my sake, for yours, and no one else’s.”

“Morar-juk!”He lifts his head, rakes his hands through his hair. “Gods give me strength!”

Am I losing him? After all this, will he still resist me? “Vor, please—”

He pivots on heel, grasps me by my upper arms, and pulls me to him. His lips find mine in a kiss that makes my mind, soul, and body explode in a light-storm of sensation. It ripples through me, melts my insides, until I am weak-kneed and leaning into him for support. Were it not for his grip on me, I would fall at his feet.

Then my hands are around his neck, and his are in my hair. He angles my face so that he can kiss me more deeply, and I open my mouth to him. Our tongues meet, tangle. That intimate touch makes all the colors of my heart dance.

He cups my cheeks, pulls me back just a little, stares down at me in absolute wonder. “What have you done to me?” He kisses me again, gently. A sweet touch, like a promise, a prayer. “I would hazard it all. My realm, my crown, my kingdom. Even my honor. All for you. Only for you.”

His hands slide from my cheeks down to my neck, my shoulders, my arms. When he pulls me against him this time, I cannot ignore the hardness of his body revealing the full intensity of his need for me. It’s enough to make my breath catch. I roll my head back, and his kisses move from my mouth to my jaw, my neck, down to my collarbone. He molds me against him, and I bend backwards, dizzy with desire. My blood turns to liquid lava, pulsing hot through every limb.

A little growl in my throat, I grab hold of his tunic, wrench it free of his belt so that I can slip my hand underneath to press against the small of his back. He gasps. As though that mere touch is enough to undo him. I explore further, sliding my palms around to his abdomen, up his chest. Then I yank the garment. Obeying my unspoken command, he rips it over his head and tosses it to one side.

Now he stands before me, chest heaving. I step back to sweep my lingering gaze over his body. But looking isn’t enough. I cannot resist reaching out, touching the hard muscles of his chest. His skin is such a strange, otherworldly color to my human gaze. I should probably find him unsettling. But I don’t. He’s so beautiful it almost hurts.

He closes his eyes, groans softly. Then he takes hold of me suddenly, turns me around, pulls me against his chest. Once more I feel his hardness, and it both thrills and intimidates me. For now, I lean my head back against his shoulder and glory in the sensation of his fingers tracing my throat, slipping under the sleeve of my gown. He pulls the sleeve down and presses scorching kisses against the curve of my neck.

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