Page 8 of A Court of Truth and Thorns
“Don’t leave us,” I whisper, so quietly I can barely make out my own words. “Don’t leaveme.” A sharp intake of breath.
Closing my eyes, I lean into the warm hand he still holds to my face. It smells of steel and salt. I breathe deeply, savoring his scent, determined to burn it into my memory before it’s gone. Trace’s thumb caresses my cheek again. A touch so gentle, it should belong to a butterfly instead of a deadly warrior.
Heat rushes through me, starting on my cheeks and running down the back of my throat, my chest, the inside of my thighs. All the fibers in my body wantmore. Even as I’m terrified bymore.Even as I don’t know what under the starsmorelooks like.
Just that I want this heat to last forever.
Trace’s thumb touches my lips, sending a new wave of energy cascading through me.
I open my eyes, meeting the dark intensity of his. “Rune,” I whisper.
He flinches at the name, but instead of pulling away, he leans closer to me. “Yes,” he breathes, his body taut with the same energy that has woken my senses. My mouth parts, moving of its own accord as my heart stutters.
Trace’s nostrils flare delicately, as if he’s taking in every sense of the moment. His hand slides from my chest to cup the back of my head. His face dips, his lips so close to mine that the phantom tickle of their touch brushes my skin.
My hands wrap around his waist, my nails digging into his back.
Trace growls faintly, the sound rumbling with a deep, feral possessiveness that awakens my body to every smell, every line, every touch that is him. His lips brush the corner of my mouth, his body trembling with restraint. My grip on his back tightens, my body demanding—begging for—his touch, even as remnants of fear pulsate through my veins. The brand on my shoulder throbs in memory of Lord Gapral’s lessons. Of consequences.
Trace’s tongue caresses my lower lip. Teasing and questioning. A tongue that knows exactly what it’s doing, if the tingle rushing through my body is any indication. A small moan escapes me, and his mouth finds mine, sealing the sound between us.
The press of his lips is soft only for the heartbeat it takes me to press into his touch. Then his mouth pushes hungrily against mine.
The energy waking my body moments ago is nothing compared to the explosion that sears through me now. An impossible mix of terror and pleasure. I taste the steel and wind that is Trace, each press of his tongue igniting a new flame inside me. My essence trembles, volatile as black powder.
My nails press into his skin. Trace’s other hand moves frommy face to brace the small of my back, his hard body both unyielding and protective as he holds me against him.
We pull apart violently, our burning lungs demanding the breath they’ve been denied too long. Panting, I stare at Trace, who is frozen too, except for his heaving chest. Cool air rushes between us, sending a tremor through me. Fear and desire whisper to me in unison.What have you done, Kali? What will you do now?My face heats as my body proposes an answer. The stiffness of Trace’s shoulders betrays his own struggle to reclaim mastery of his blood.
“What do we tell the others?” I ask finally between ragged breaths.
“You can start with the truth,” Luca’s harsh voice says from a few paces away. “And go from there.”
6
KALI
Heart pounding in my throat, I spin toward Luca, whose glare threatens to burn down the forest. I scramble to calculate how much he might have heard, but the reality is that I’ve been blind to the world since first finding Trace.
Beside me, Trace clasps his hands in the small of his back and straightens before Luca. The silence rips me to shreds. My mouth is dry, my body too cold with Trace’s sudden absence. Luca’s condemning stare strips me naked, and I wrap my arms around my shoulders.
Luca jerks his head toward the cave. “In fact, why don’t you tell us all.”
Trace shifts his weight.
Luca’s hand slides to his sword hilt. “That wasn’t a request,Highness.”
“Luca,” Trace says quietly.
“No.” The storm in Luca’s eyes shows just how littleprovocation it would take for him to draw steel. And blood. “Shut your mouth and walk.”
Moving slowly, Trace shows his friend his empty palms before carefully drawing his blade from its scabbard and holding the weapon’s hilt toward Luca.
Luca snatches the sword, its edge leaving a deep cut in Trace’s palm.
Trace wipes the blood against his shirt and presses the wounded palm against his forearm. “I pose no threat to you, Luca,” he says quietly. “Let me leave.”
My breath catches, an abyss of ice opening inside my chest.Let me leave, a voice chuckles hideously inside me, parroting Trace.Me, notus. The full extent of my miscalculation lashes across my face like a whip.I warned you,the voice says.You’ve no one to blame but yourself. What is it you imagined was happening, little fool? Love?Bile rises into my throat.
