Page 174 of The Last One
“Hey,” I whisper back, my voice barely a breath.
“Is this what you want?” he asks, his words tinged with uncertainty.
“Mmhmm.” My pulse thunders in my ears. “Is this what you want?”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says.
“Then don’t.”
He lifts my tunic over my head and kisses a slow, deliberate path from my shoulder to my neck, leaving fire, fire, everywhere.
“Are you coming with me?” I ask, trembling.
He pauses, then laughs softly against my skin. “Definitely. If all goes well.”
I snort in amusement. “Not that. I mean…”
“To Mount Devour?” He meets my gaze in the mirror. “Yes.”
I brush my nose against his, and flames jump between us. “As you were.”
Sparks sizzle from every place he touches, every place he kisses, and all that energy is building and whirling inside me. And then, as his hand drifts over my skin, I see my tattoo markings for the first time. Jadon notices as he glances at our reflection in the mirror, and his hand drifts over my bandeau to the wild vine right beneath my breasts.
“I want to see all of it,” I whisper and watch his hand unclasp my bandeau.
Symbols. Stars, filled circles, boxes and lines.
“What does it mean?” I wonder.
He doesn’t respond, merely traces each shape until his hand cups my breast.
No longer ashamed of my impatience, I untie the bandage from his left hand.
“Are you sure?” he whispers.
“Mmhmm,” I whisper, hopeful. “Areyousure?”
“Mmhmm,” he whispers.
He is free now, and his hand returns to my breast. His tattoo sits above mine, his a controlled circle, mine wild as ivy. He whispers my name, and I whisper his. I hold my breath as I unbuckle his pants—he’s wanted this since the moment we met. So have I. He pushes down my breeches, and I guide his hand to the place I need his touch, here, here, yeah, here, and we sway slowly, like we’re dancing, like we’re worshipping.
I watch and feel that hand do magical things, and he watches, too, and all of it makes me dizzy, makes me ache, makes me breathless.
Is this how it feels to be on fire?
Gasping, I hold his unflinching gaze in that mirror’s reflection as the glow of the nightstar lights us silver, as that light bathes us until the markings on our bodies glow.What do they mean?
Before I can dwell on that question, a knock on the door interrupts our caresses.
Lost in a realm Jadon and I created, we ignore whoever it is.
The knock becomes harder, insistent.
Jadon’s touch becomes more urgent, harder, insistent.
And in this moment, I make a choice: I choose him.
“Lady,” Separi calls through the door, “is Mister Ealdrehrt there with you?”
