Page 57 of A Chill in the Flame
Ophir frowned. “How do we know if it was right?”
Both Dwyn and Tyr seemed to make an amused face at this.
“Because you made it.” Tyr spoke for both of them.
“Do you want to go tonight?” Dwyn asked.
Ophir looked out the window at the lateness of the hour. “What if we eat the rest of this man’s food and leave by morning? I’m sure he’s on a hunting trip—it would all be spoiled by the time he returned, anyway.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Dwyn agreed.
They left the fire crackling as they crawled into bed. Dwyn made the executive decision that Tyr would remain on the sofa. He hadn’t protested too much, given that he’d be closer to the fire. Dwyn crawled into bed first, her body pressing into the space closest to the wall and its window. She faced the princess in the moments before sleep, taking off her clothes and draping her leg possessively over Ophir’s hip. The princess began to fall asleep while entangled in Dwyn’s limbs, pleasant scent of mint comforting her as she relaxed. The soothing sound of the siren’sdeep, steady breathing as she fell under the waters of sleep was a comforting lullaby.
Her lids fluttered to a close as she felt the fabric of the bed begin to tug and lift. Heat spiked through her as she realized who was joining them in the bed.
Twenty-seven
Ophir tried not to move. She resisted the urge to make anynoise. She didn’t want to wake Dwyn. With extreme caution, she swallowed and looked over her shoulder to see…nothing.
“I think there’s room in the bed for three, Princess,” Tyr whispered in her ear, his bodyweight pressing down into the mattress behind her. “The sofa isn’t particularly comfortable.” His arm draped against her front, forearm settling into the space between her breasts as his hand cupped the space near her face. His hips pressed into her backside, and she could feel, in no uncertain terms, that he was wide awake.
“It seemed comfortable enough to me,” she whispered, heart skipping several beats.
“Yes, but you’re not there.”
Her breathing hitched. She wondered if he could feel the way her entire body warmed as if she’d unwillingly summoned her gift for flame. Damn, traitorous body. It wanted what it wanted.
“Shh,” he whispered. “You’ll wake her.” Tyr squeezed Ophir to him ever so slightly, without stirring Dwyn where she slept. He brushed his thumb against Ophir’s lips, then lowered the tips of his fingers lower to rest against her thundering heart.
“Are you nervous, princess?”
She struggled to remain calm. Yes, he did make her nervous. Not because he was a man, and not because he was in her bed, but because he was a phantom mere inches away from the space she shared with Dwyn. His disregard for taboo had her heart thundering, which he could doubtlessly feel from where his arm rested. He seemed to like playing with fire, and she was flame personified.
“Do you want me to go?”
“Yes,” she said, hoping he’d hear the blatant untruth in her word.
“You know…I can tell when you’re lying.”
Ophir bit her lower lip, hard. His hand slid up from where it had monitored her heart. It gently clasped over her mouth to silence her.
Tyr remained in the space between things, likely enjoying the pleasure of remaining unseen. She couldn’t anticipate his movements, nor would the siren awaken to spot him. Ophir’s breath caught as he explored her body with a careful, teasing hand. A finger dragged along her spine, drawing its way down her back; it traced along the crease down her center as it sought her warm, tender center. Her hips rocked slightly, pushing into him.
“Do you want to know what I have on my mind?” he asked in her ear.
“No,” she whispered back.
“Liar.”
Dwyn rolled away in her sleep, dead to the world.
Ophir swallowed, and he continued to whisper against her hair. “One of these nights, I’d love to slip inside you with your favorite witch an inch away from us, Princess. How fun.” His words released a rush of water into the space between her thighs. She felt her body heat, her hips rocking again instinctively. The wall of his back pushed against her. Tyr moved his arms so that his underarm could slip beneath her head, keeping her face in gentle control in case she mightbe at risk of making noise.
With a cruel dismissal, he gave a quiet command as his lips brushed her ear.
“Go to bed, Firi.”
His game was clever. Dangle, and deny. She wasn’t naïve. She knew what he was doing. And part of her admired him for how well it was working. It did make her want. She sighed in frustration.
