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To claim something as his—a strike, a kill, a horn of ale—Ashwood tapped whatever he wanted three times.
It was only in the moments before I fell into a fitful sleep that I realized Roark Ashwood found me without a torch. He was able to slash at the wolf, calm its soul, and find me in the shadows with only a sliver of moonlight to guide him. He’d written in the darkness without trouble. Roark never truly responded to my query about the bones, merely spoke of a melder’s sight, but he’d moved about the clearing as though he could see the strange, frightening glow of bones the same as me.
“Pardon me,” I said over my shoulder to the stunned woman. “My captor has need of me, it seems.”
“Don’t let me fall in there,” I whispered. Unlike the first time we stood beyond this doorway when Roark said nothing, he took my hand and lifted the back to his lips. I did not blink, watching until his mouth met my knuckles. When he pulled back, he traced one word against my palm. Never.
when King Damir drew gazes our way once again, Lyra’s breath stuttered, and I placed a grounding palm on her thigh beneath the table. She stiffened at once. I was a fool, thinking she’d want my touch. After a moment, I began to pull my palm away until Lyra’s grip took hold of my fingers. She squeezed once, then lifted her chin. “Stay,” she whispered. “Please.” I swallowed, then slowly maneuvered my hand so her fingers laced through mine, and kept hold of her until Damir ceased his speech
“She’s mine.” An embarrassing sting of tears burned behind my eyes. “I felt it. They can’t take her.”
Now I’d had a taste and unlocked a deeper need to have more. No doubt, if I gave in, Lyra Bien would consume me—heart and soul.
Fingertips brushed across the curve of my back. I startled, then nearly crumpled in a fit of relief. Like a phantom, Roark stepped from the far edge of the room—a position I hadn’t seen—and stood at my side. I wanted to take his hand, squeeze the rough skin of his palm until his fingertips went numb.
Roark caught my wrist. His fingers came to my chin and tilted my head so I could meet his dark, golden eyes. He was close enough I could feel the deeper draws of his breath against my hair. The rough tip of his thumb brushed over my cheek. Roark did not gesture or write a response, merely nodded and hooked an arm around my waist, urging my body closer. Close enough I leveraged my legs on either side of his hips, straddling him.
Roark gripped my jaw in his palm, drawing my eyes back to him. He released me only long enough to say, Tell me to stop. “We should.” He nodded, but his hand remained under my skirt, his thumb drawing small circles on the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. This would not be accepted. King Damir’s prize with the prince’s personal guard would be seen as a distraction the king would not allow. “We should stop.” My lips hovered over his. I adjusted my position on his lap, settling my core over his hardness. Roark hissed through his teeth, and his fingers dug into the flesh of my leg. I tilted my
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Roark pulled my hand away and shook his head. His eyes burned in a molten blaze when he opened his palm over my heart, patting the place three times. A gentle declaration this moment belonged to me alone.
A small smirk teased the corner of his mouth. Roark gripped my chin with one hand, drawing my mouth close, but with the other he made certain I understood his every command. On your knees.
When he gently tapped my shoulder three times, then again, emotion knotted in my throat. Mine. He kept claiming me—Lyra—not the melder, but me.
“After you,” Kael said once we were in the corridor. “But you might want to let down your hair.” I flipped my braid over my shoulder. “Why?” Kael lowered his voice. “The Sentry left his bite behind.”
“You brighten the night, and I will fight to keep it.”
One of his palms slid between the cleft of my breasts. Roark held my gaze and tapped his palm three times, then with care took my hand and placed it over his own chest. Emotion knotted in my throat. His. Mine. He was claiming my heart and giving me his.
“Why did he threaten you?” Kael scoffed and kicked out his legs, crossing his ankles. “If I had to guess? Because he’s completely in love with you. The man simply says it in odd ways.”
Little by little, the chains keeping the power out of my control had returned. My soul was tethered to hers and I would slaughter anyone who tried to break it.
Ten paces from the gates and a broken, venomous shout shattered through my heart. “Roark.” It was the only voice capable of bringing Roark to pause. The horse snorted and Roark twisted around, peering through the wisps of mists the shadow of Skul Drek kept stirring. Thane, sweat-soaked and weary, let his sword fall from his grip. Roark winced, and pressed a hand to his chest, a simple gesture, a plea for forgiveness. The prince’s face twisted with pain, and Roark Ashwood turned his back on Stonegate, racing us into the wood beyond the gates.
It should never have meant anything. Roark took a step closer. I was supposed to despise you, hunt you. Instead, you’ve brought me to my knees, begging for more of you.
