Page 110 of Trials of Dusk and Dreams
“Sure,” I say, far too interested in Max’s burgeoning battle recap. But then her words soak in. “Wait, what? Tell me everything.”
“Shadow!” Bodin’s impatient bark cuts between us like a knife.
“Hold that thought,” I point to Geraldine, fighting a grin that feels more like a grimace. “I want to know everything when I get back.”
I jog over to the tent.
“Get inside,” Bodin grumbles, his eyes darting around the camp.
The instant the flap closes, he wrenches me around and crushes his lips to mine. The kiss is so sudden and passionatethat I’m thrown off guard. He pins my head with his large hand, calloused fingers tangling in my hair, holding me at his tongue’s mercy. I heat. I ache. I need more. But the moment I gather my wits enough to kiss him back, the bastard pulls away. My lips chase his but come up short.
He breathes through his nose, nostrils flaring, and holds me at arm’s length. His eyes are dark, pupils dilated in the dim light of the tent.
“What was that for?” I breathe, my heart racing.
“The Radiants are heading into the city for the night.”
“Okay,” I reply, still a little dazed. “All of you?”
“Just the heads of houses.” He pauses, his jaw clenching. “And their Shadows.”
“So . . . not you?”
He shakes his head, his braids tinkling. “Nor Styx.”
“Why do you look worried?” I ask, studying the tense set of his shoulders.
A wry, disgruntled look slides my way. “Because, Calamity, I’d prefer you be within watching distance so when disaster inevitably strikes, I will be there.”
Did he hear the words around the campfire? Trying to hide my nerves, I fold my arms. “Are you expecting something to go wrong?”
After a moment, he concedes, “No. It is a diplomatic activity. Nothing more.” But the furrow between his brows doesn’t ease.
He tells me, rather grumpily, to get my things. When I emerge from his tent and pass on my news, the disappointment on my friends’ faces is noticeable. I feel it, too. Spending time with and watching them grow has been the best part of this trip.
“Bring us back a souvenir,” Geraldine says, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. I give her a salute and return to the tent with my bag.
“Do I have to go?” The words tumble out before I can stop them. Bodin’s scowl deepens, his fists clenching at his sides.
Heading into a triple-fortified city after days in the wilderness holds little appeal. Diplomatic discussions? Boring.
“Yes,” he growls, closing the gap between us. His scent—leather and something uniquely Bodin—envelops me. “You’ll be back tomorrow morning. Then we return to the Nexus.”
His eyes flash with an unspoken promise:Then you’ll be mine.
I sigh, rolling my shoulders. “You do realize we’re mortals, right? Three days of marching equals blisters, sores, aching muscles.”
“Would you prefer to sit idle while you recuperate?” One eyebrow arches in a challenge.
Three days. My heat approaches fast. I’ve stifled it before, but out here? The breeze might carry my scent. And who knows how potent it is in Avorlorna? At least Cait’s pink elixir might help.
“Why not use portal stones?” I shake my head. “Seems obvious.”
“The Folk cling to tradition.”
Legion bursts in, startling me. He meticulously seals the flap, fingers lingering on the canvas. As he turns, the tent shrinks, his presence filling every corner of the already cramped space.
Lantern light glints off his brass spectacles, casting eerie shadows across sculpted features. Where Bodin exudes raw, primal strength, Legion’s power is honed to a razor’s edge—evident in his squared shoulders, tilted chin, and piercing gaze.
