Page 145 of Kissed By the Gods
She pales. I’m a prick. I rub a hand down my face.
“Look, Leina?—”
“No,” she takes a step toward me. And then another and another until she’s right there, our breaths intermingling, the scent of lavender on the air. My hand spasms on the doorknob. “Tell me why you did that. You said you’ll be punished.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I growl at her, intentionally rough. To get her to back off. Whatever I need to tell her can wait. “We need to get back to the Synod, get some rest. We have a lot of ground to cover tomorrow.”
She shoves a hand into my chest. I should have taken Roran to the healer myself and let Thalric make sure she was alright. It’s not too late to walk away, to let Thalric take her home. I turn the knob to open the door.
“Don’t walk away from me!” she shouts, furious. The gold in her eyes seems to glow, her faces flushes. “For once, don’t run away! Why are you even here?”
“For you!” I finally roar, and her eyes snap open, going wide. “Because when I found out you were here, I wasn’t just worried. I was jealous beyond belief.”
I let go of the doorknob, and the anchor it represented. I’m unmoored.
I take a step toward her. “Because when I found out Roran was up here with you, I was absolutely furious.”
I bring both hands up to cup her cheeks, and I’m anchored again.
“Because when I burst in and saw you pressed against that wall, that dagger in your hand, I saw red.”
I bring my lips to her forehead and press a kiss there, one that shocks me with how gentle it is because I would have sworn there was nothing gentle in me.
“Because I have no control when it comes to you,” I confess in a broken whisper.
She brings her own hands up to cover mine, pressing my hands closer instead of pushing me away. “I’ve never asked you to have control.”
My mouth goes dry in a way that has nothing to do with fear. But it should, and not just because of the Synod or oaths or rules.
I don’t fucking deserve her.
“Tell me to leave,” I whisper raggedly into her mouth.
“Never,” she says.
There are a dozen reasons I should walk away from her. Hells, I could list them alphabetically, each one louder than theone before. But she rises on her tip toes, stopping just before our lips touch. She runs her hands up my arms, gripping me by the back of my neck, pulling me down to her. Her fingers play with my hair, and I shiver at the sensation.
I should walk away. Now. The savagery I’ve held in check is now a raging beast, battling to break free. I’ll devour her if I don’t walk out that door right now, the violence of my jealousy and rage and the desperation for her mixing into a potent cocktail.
I crave her. I loosen my grip on her face, ready to do the responsible thing. The right thing and walk away. To cage myself once more.
But … she presses her lips against mine.
“Ryot,” she whispers. And gods. My name on her lips, breathed into my own mouth, is the most intoxicating drug I’ve ever experienced. I need to hear it again. Feel it again. And again. The blood pulses in my ears until I’m deaf with it, the fury of desire for her nearly blinding me.
“Don’t make me beg,” she says.
I almost miss the way her lip quivers against mine, the way her eyes fill with vulnerability and nerves before she leans forward again and draws my bottom lip in between her teeth.
But I don’t miss it. And that vulnerable courage—that essence of Leina—is my undoing.
“By the Veil, Leina, you don’t beg for anything. You command and it’s yours. Tell me what you want.”
“You,” she says.
With a groan, I crash my lips into hers and fall into my reason for being.
Inevitable.
