Page 33 of The Dark Elf's Found Family
"Brynn," he says, and my name sounds different in his mouth than it has before. Softer. More careful. Like something precious he's afraid of breaking.
I know I should say something, deflect the moment, redirect us back to safer ground. But I find myself thinking about everything he told me at the lake—about feeling unseen,unappreciated, taken for granted. About the loneliness of being with someone who couldn't really see you.
And I realize that I do see him. Have been seeing him, really seeing him, since that first day in my shop when he made me laugh despite myself. I see the way he softens around our daughters, the careful attention he pays to Nya's every breath, the genuine interest he shows in Rhea's drawings and stories. I see his kindness, his gentleness, the way he's never once made me feel foolish for my caution or impatience for my walls.
"I see you too," I whisper, and watch something like wonder bloom across his face.
When his hand moves to cover mine on the bench between us, I don't pull away. His skin is warm despite the cold, his fingers gentle as they trace over my knuckles. The simple touch sends heat racing up my arm and settles somewhere deep in my chest, where it spreads like wine through my veins.
"I've been thinking about what you said," I tell him, my voice barely above a whisper. "About being scared together."
"And?"
"And maybe... maybe I'm tired of being scared alone."
Something shifts in his expression then, hope and hunger and careful restraint all warring for dominance. When he leans closer, I can smell the wine on his breath, the lingering scent of ink and parchment that always seems to cling to his clothes.
"Are you sure?" he asks, his voice rough with want and the effort of holding himself back.
Instead of answering with words, I close the distance between us.
Our first kiss at the Ikuyenda celebration had been tentative, testing, a question asked in the language of touch. This one is different—sure and deliberate, an answer given freely. His lips are soft against mine, warm and wine-sweet, and when I sighinto his mouth he makes a sound low in his throat that sends heat racing through my veins.
I've kissed exactly two men in my life—the village boy I thought I loved when I was seventeen, and Cyprien. Both times felt like stepping into someone else's story, trying to be someone I wasn't for the sake of romance or passion or whatever I thought love was supposed to feel like.
This feels like coming home.
Ciaran kisses like he writes—with careful attention to detail, with patience, with a focus that makes me feel like I'm the only thing in the world that matters. His hand comes up to cup my face, his thumb tracing over my cheekbone with a reverence that makes my heart stutter.
When I deepen the kiss, he seems to melt into it, into me, like he's been waiting for this permission for longer than I can imagine. His other arm slides around my waist, pulling me closer, and I go willingly, pressing against his side until there's no space left between us.
"Brynn," he breathes against my lips, and there's so much feeling packed into my name that it nearly undoes me. Wonder and gratitude and desire all wrapped up together, like I've given him something he never expected to have.
I realize with startling clarity that this is more than a mistake. This is a choice, a deliberate step toward something I want despite every rational reason to protect myself. And for the first time in ten years, I cannot bring myself to care about the potential consequences.
So I kiss him again, deeper this time, pouring all my careful hope and desperate want into the connection between us. He responds immediately, his hand tightening in my hair, his magic flaring around us until we're wrapped in a cocoon of warmth that has nothing to do with the winter night and everything to do with the heat building between us.
18
CIARAN
The taste of wine and want on her lips sends fire straight through my veins. Every careful wall I've built around my desire for this woman crumbles to dust as she melts against me, her soft sigh vibrating against my mouth like a prayer I never knew I needed to hear.
Gods, I've been holding myself back for weeks, being patient and understanding while she worked through her fears. Giving her space, letting her set the pace, pretending I wasn't dying a little more each day from wanting her. But now she's kissing me like she means it, like she wants this as much as I do, and I'm only a man. Only a man who's been starving for the taste of her, the feel of her body against mine, the sound of my name on her lips when she's lost to pleasure.
Her hands fist in my shirt, pulling me closer, and something primal and possessive roars to life in me. Mine. The word echoes through my mind with such fierce certainty it nearly steals my breath. She's mine, has been mine since that first day in her shop when she laughed despite herself, and I'm done pretending otherwise.
I deepen the kiss, claiming her mouth with a hunger I've kept leashed for far too long. She responds immediately, her tongue sliding against mine with a boldness that makes my cock throb against the confines of my pants. When she makes a soft, needy sound deep in her throat, I nearly come undone.
"Fuck," I growl against her lips, my control hanging by the thinnest of threads. "Brynn, I?—"
"Don't stop," she whispers, her voice breathless and desperate. "Please don't stop."
That's all the permission I need. I stand in one fluid motion, my hands sliding under her thighs to lift her against me. Her legs wrap around my waist immediately, and the feel of her heat pressed against my stomach makes me want to forget everything except burying myself inside her until she screams my name.
Her mouth finds my neck, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin there, and I have to bite back a groan. My magic flares outward without conscious thought, gathering our forgotten meal and the lamp, everything floating along behind us as I carry her toward the inn's entrance.
"Your room," she breathes against my throat, her lips trailing fire across my skin. "Take me to your room."
