Page 61 of Oracle of Ruin

“Well, I was in the middle of this book.”

“A book?”

“Mhm, one of those filthy ones Kya likes.” I near laugh at his darting glance. “I think I should like a whole library of them once this war is over.”

Rowan pauses, glancing over his shoulder before pulling me down a side hall. His arm braces on the wall behind me, his lips dangerously close to my throat. “When we retake our kingdom, I will build you the largest library this world has ever seen, and I will take you against every bookshelf. Tell me everything that goes on in those dirty little books of yours and I will make it happen once you’re on your throne.”

My knees tremble as my breath hitches in my throat. I don’t know where I find the strength to whisper, “Our.”

“What, love?”

“I preferred it when you saidourkingdom. Our throne.”

My tongue feels heavy in my mouth, the words lazily being dragged from my hazy subconscious. Everything is Rowan. He caresses my senses, completely enveloping me in him. The scent of citrus and pine floods the room in a thick wave, and his emerald gaze pierces through what little bit of my sense of self that I have left.

His knuckles graze my side as he trails them from my hip up to my ribs, mapping the expanse of my torso. His warm breath kisses my skin and I am not ashamed to admit that my gaze has now settled on his lips.

His voice is low and heady when he chuckles. “I’ll have you on our throne, as well, if that’s what you want, sunshine.”

Desire scatters across my flesh in the form of goosebumps and my back involuntarily arches off the wall. My chest scrapes against his as I breathe and his fingers raise to hook under my chin.

“What happened to your boldness? Were you all talk with that wicked tongue of yours?”

I feel the sudden urge to stretch up on my toes and press my lips against his, to show him just how wicked this tongue is, but my feet remain rooted to the worn wooden floorboards. He smirks knowingly, already basking in the victory that comes from my breathlessness. His arm wraps around my midsection in the gap between my spine and the bookshelf, his fingers splayed across my waist. With one deft motion, he hauls my form against his and crashes his lips down onto mine.

He is shadow and light. Sin and good. Pure bliss and eternal torment. Each time his lips close over mine, I feel as if I might die, and yet when he pulls away, I find myself leaning forward on my toes in search of him again. His mouth is warm, and he chuckles against my lips before lacing his fingers through my hair at the base of my neck. He pulls my face to his, leaving me no choice but to stay enveloped in him as he claims more of me. My body. My heart. My very essence.

I don’t need to be the sun in his life. I don’t need to shine like Mavis shined to him. I just need to be the stars that reside in his darkness. Gods, just grant me that much.

Feeling emboldened, I step closer, hooking one leg behind his knee and pressing into his hips. He groans against my mouth and I repeat the motion, feeling heat settle low in my core. His teeth scrape across my lower lip and I gasp, one of his hands trailing up past my ribs. His thumb traces circles across my flesh. Gods, this is better than reading it in a book, this is…

“You’re seriously making me reconsider going to this meeting.” He grins against my skin. His lips move to trail up my jaw before he playfully nips at my ear.

“We could skip?” I offer helplessly as his ministrations leave me breathless.

“And what happened to that good girl act?”

“Fuck the meeting.”

Rowan pauses, his chuckle a low rumble in his chest that vibrates through my palm. I fight the urge to whine when he steps back, pressing one last slow kiss to my swollen lips before smiling. His hand reaches out and smooths my hair where he mused it and brushes my bangs from my eyes. “We have to go. I’ve got to make sure this world is safe for you first, then I’m all yours.”

My lips involuntarily form a pout. “You mean whenwemake sure the world is safe.”

Rowan’s breath hitches and his emerald gaze traces my entire body. His face softens and something like peace washes over his features. His touch becomes reverential, worshipping almost.

“What?” I breathe.

“Just making sure you’re real,” he whispers, pressing a slow kiss to my forehead. “You’re perfect. Fucking perfect, sunshine.”

I blush red to the tips of my ears, the back of my neck warming with humble embarrassment. I’ve been called many things in my life, some things more savory than others, but never have I been spoken of with such whimsical awe, such adoration.

Silently, I interlace our fingers and allow him to lead me towards the dining hall.

Kya told me on the way back that they’ve been holding all meetings in this room, the once ornate dining table now converted into a war table. The door squeaks as we enter, announcing our entrance to all the patrons inside.

Kya’s descriptions haven’t done the chaos in the room any justice at all. Maps have been pinned to the wall with carving knives, certain portions slashed through and marked up with charcoal and an assortment of colors of ink. They overlap, creating a grand depiction of the entire continent, an ocean of parchment, charcoal, violence, and blood splatter. The few chairs that are in the room are occupied, drawn into a circle around the war table.

I take a moment to register the unfamiliar faces. The Nightwalkers clump together, Amír residing in the center, seated between Kya and Torin. Torin bridges the gap between mercenaries and rebels, the sight more jarring than I expected it to be. A woman sits to his right, the majority of her face obscured by her hood, but not enough so that I can’t tell she used to be pretty. Her eyes are dull and red and her cheekbones sunken, but her face is kind. Her brows are soft even as they pinch together, and I gasp when I recognize her.

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