When I'm ready? The suggestion didn't make sense, as if I weren't quaking with need, as if I hadn't withered away, as if I had time to wait to be ready to recover. Asterion rumbled as I braced my knee next to his hip on the bench, golden lashes fluttering up from his cheeks. "Théa?" "Please," I whispered, settling myself over his lap, grasping his face in trembling hands. He blinked again and the carriage rocked, forcing our bodies to jostle together. Those fanned lashes fluttered, and the buttons of his coat scraped against the belly of my gown with his deep breath. "Take what you need," he
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