Total pages in book: 204
Estimated words: 193124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 193124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
“Do not think about it.”
“Who hurt you,” I whisper as I stare up into his eyes.
His expression darkens, but the anger is not directed to me. “It was a long time ago.”
Except it’s still with him, and not just in his flesh. My mind reels with all kinds of scenarios … betrayals, ambushes, attacks. Is this why he lives the life he does? Rootlessly going from aggression to aggression?
“Do you still fight them,” I ask. “Whoever it was.”
Those black and white eyes trace my face, and he strokes a strand of hair from my cheek. In a grim voice, he answers, “Every moment of every day and each night. Especially now.”
“I’m so sorry—”
“No more talking. We have this moment, let us not waste it.”
When he brings his lips down to my own, I move my hands to other places. And then his mouth, that talented mouth, is on my neck, on my collarbone, heading lower to my breasts. He is slow and deliberate with the way he pleasures me, his hands stroking my thighs and my hips, my core once again.
Our bodies move together, in perfect harmony, the satin pants he still has on offering no barrier at all, but rather an enticing slide to his hard angles. I’m the one who pulls down the waistband, and as I wrap my hand around his shaft, it’s like holding a brand.
“I need you,” he groans, coming up to my mouth again.
I guide him to me, and this time, the penetration is slow and easy. Smooth and hot. Deep and full.
He rides me with care, and I arch into him—just managing to catch my hands before they run up his back again. I agree with him. We have such a short time, and I can’t waste it on things that are painful. So I hold on to his hips instead, and suddenly, he’s moving faster and faster. A crest of pleasure comes for me anew, and then he joins me in the release, his body locking into mine as his sex kicks inside me, filling me up.
“Sorrel…” he says in a voice that cracks with emotion.
As he finally comes to rest, I wrap my arms around as much of him as I can reach, and smile at the ceiling far above us. There are ways of telling someone you love them without speaking the actual words.
And the way my name left his mouth just now is one of them.
Part Five
The Start of the War of All Souls
Eighty-Six
Hide.
Just as the sun peeks over the eastern horizon, Merc and I are checking the tack on the horses. We’re outside the royal stables, attended to by a couple of guards and some uniformed footmen. In spite of the hour, Merc and I are ready to go, and so are our horses. The others are a different story. Given their half-mast eyes and the wafts of mead that emanate from their very pores, the celebrations continued well into the evening.
Putting my hand on Lavante’s silken flank, I walk around to his butt and sweep down to check his back shoes, remembering what Emma warned me. Both seem fine. Then again, if he only throws one when he’s bored? This stallion hasn’t had a moment’s peace unless he was sleeping.
“Oh, I forgot,” Merc says as he swings his pack off the back of his saddle. “I have something for you—”
One of the guards weaves on his feet, goes elbow over teakettle, and lands in a planter. His comrades, and the stable hands, immediately attend to him, and Merc shakes his head as he pulls something out.
“This is yours, isn’t it?”
In his callused palm … is a red velvet bag I never expected to see again.
My breath catches and all I can do is stare. Mare’s coins. “Where … did you find it?”
“I saw it on the ground back at the ruins, just as I was bolting out of there. It was so out of place, and right where you and the stallion were.” He jogs the satchel, the muffled chiming that rises up sweet to my ears. “Heavy. Sounds of only one thing.”
“Thank you.” I take the weight and hold it close, closing my eyes. “Thank you so much.”
He settles his pack back on Snooze. “I don’t know what kind of coins are in there, but going by the weight? I’d say that’s a fortune.”
Glancing up at him, I wonder if he’s thinking of payments and that I hid wealth from him at the start of all this. There’s no bitterness on his face, no tension in his body, though.
“This was … a gift from a very dear friend. Upon her death.”
“Then she must have loved you very truly.” As a second guard faints, Merc steps around his horse—who is, actually, snoozing even with all the activity around him—and goes over to help with a curse. “Oh, for fate’s sake, man. You’re in uniform. Pull it together.”