Page 157 of What Blooms from Death

“He mentioned…” I trailed off. Swallowed hard. Tried again. “He pointed out that I favor Calista.”

The answer clearly surprised him; he didn’t seem to know how to reply.

“And I wonder if…as his descendant…if you favor Argoth,” I said.

The meaning behind my words seemed to slowly dawn on him. “Nova…”

“In a way, it feels like we’re living out the love story they never got to finish, doesn’t it?”

He brushed aside a tendril of hair that had escaped from my partial-updo, letting his fingertips linger against my cheek.

“Just…” My voice grew thick. “Just tell me we aren’t a tragedy like they ended up being.”

His brow furrowed in thought, but he didn’t answer right away.

Nearly a full minute passed.

It wasn’t a fair question, I decided; who could really answer such a thing?

“Sorry,” I whispered, starting to turn away. “It’s late. I’m tired and speaking nonsense. Never mind, I should—”

He grabbed my arm, spinning me back toward him. My heart leapt into my throat.

No man had ever looked at me the way he was looking at me in that moment.

“There is nothingtragicabout the fact that I met you here in this world,” he said, taking my face in his hands. “Or about the way I feel when I kiss you, or when your body curves next to mine when we sleep. Nothing I could possibly regret about the way I find calm in your chaos and solace in your shadows, and ifwe end up ripped apart and ruined, it will still have been worth it all.” He gripped me tighter and bowed his head against mine, as if in prayer. “And so no—no, I don’t consider us a tragedy. At all.”

I’d stopped breathing at some point; his hands, still clutching my face, were the only things that kept me from toppling over as a wave of dizziness struck.

I managed to take a breath. And then to swallow. To lick the dryness from my lips. His gaze followed each of these subtle motions, the hunger in them growing with every passing heartbeat.

I’m not sure who moved first.

I blinked, and suddenly our lips were together, our hands fumbling, trying to simultaneously peel off clothing while touching every inch of one another.

After several deep kisses, he drew back and managed to focus enough to grind out a breathless command: “Turn around.”

I did, and he immediately started to undo the ties along the back of my dress. Despite the desperate world and war we’d found ourselves in, his hands didn’t feel desperate against my body. They felt deliberate. Careful.Reverentas they stripped off my clothing, piece by piece and layer by layer.

The chill still lingered in the air, but it was less noticeable as his fervent energy tangled with mine, as I felt his magic rising in response to my quickened breaths and pounding heartbeats, creating a cocoon of warmth around us.

And I forgot about the cold altogether when I turned and saw him unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it aside, slipping off his belt, letting his trousers hang deliciously low on his hips.

If I could only memorize this image of him, I might never be cold again.

The moonlight hit his bare chest at all the right angles, skimming over hard ridges, across all the scars he’d endured,highlighting the muscular lines that drew my eyes down to the impressive bulge hidden just beneath his low hanging pants.

The heat spiking through me became unbearable; my hands were on him before I realized what I was doing, my fingers clawing at what remained of his clothing, stripping it off. My lips collided with his; I felt him smiling at my eagerness just before his grip on me became ruthless, his hands digging into the fleshy backs of my thighs before he lifted me with ease, wrapping my legs around his waist.

Every point of contact between us was agonizing, heavenly, maddening—somehow both too much yet not enough.

He carried me around the corner, toward the lounge and the pile of blankets waiting there. He started to lay me down, but I stole a kiss as he did so—one that quickly turned deeper, his tongue dancing against mine, his moans vibrating down my throat.

The next thing I knew, my back was against the wall behind the sofa, his mouth continuing to ravage mine until I was gasping, begging for breath.

He drew back only inches to allow that breath, and he continued to tease my lips with gentle nibbling and sucking for a moment before he paused long enough to say, “You have no idea how close I came to doing this in front of every citizen of Tarnath, our guards included.”

My toes curled at the thought.

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