Eyes drunk with desire, he watched me as I stroked the length of it, hard as a rock.
I wanted him.
I’m not sure I realized it until now. But I wanted him. I wanted to claim him. As mine—and mine alone.
My hand withdrew enough to shift his pants down over his hips, but before I could, something moved in the corner of my eye.
A steel blade, long and thin, aimed at Kye’s neck.
65
Ifroze.
Breath rough, Kye’s eyes darted to the sword pointed at his throat. He extended a firm arm in front of me, body rigid as he rotated his chin to gaze at who threatened him.
Four men stood between us and the path up the cliffs. A rowboat floated innocently behind them, tied with a frayed rope to the rocks. The man in front grinned, gaps between his black teeth. “Don’t stop on our account.”
We’d been so wrapped up in each other, neither of us had seen or heard them. It was my fault—I’d been the one facing their direction. I was the one with advanced hearing, though Kye had always seemed to house a proficient awareness for his surroundings. But it hardly mattered now, with a weapon shoved under his chin.
They were tall. Muscular. Bare arms folded across their chests, long hair tied at their necks. One had a pug nose. Another wore an eyepatch cinched over his forehead, flipped over his brow, both eyes functional.
They leered, chuckling to themselves at the position they’d caught us in.
On instinct, Kye’s hand felt for his belt and then stopped. I swore under my breath, realizing he’d left his own weapons in the stables.
“Stand, girl,” said the man with black teeth in an accent I didn't recognize.
Kye’s body tensed as I withdrew my hand from his pants and slowly pushed to my feet. My heart hammered in my throat. Standing suddenly made me feel so far away from him, and fear crawled my spine, icy fingers dripping down my back.
Water rushed over my ankles and swept back out to sea. Someone grabbed my arm, but my eyes were locked onto Kye. Alone on his knees in the grass, he ground his teeth at the man holding the sword, fists clenching.
The man tilted his head at Kye, assessing. “To kill you or not kill you,” he mused out loud.
The one holding my arm suddenly pulled me toward the rowboat. Feet dragging in the sand, I yanked away, snarling at him. The motion caught the eye of the man holding the sword, and he turned his head only a fraction to watch.
But a fraction was all Kye needed.
He ripped from the grass, flying into the man’s middle and taking him down flat.
The one holding me suddenly set me loose, hurrying to help his leader as Kye wrestled the sword away. Kye managed to pry it from the man’s hands, but the pug-nosed man stomped his boot over the blade, clamping it under his weight.
Rippling with fury, Kye faced him.
“Kill you, I think,” the leader said, chuckling as he pushed to his feet. He snapped his fingers. “Demyan.”
The tallest one took a step toward Kye, hand at a knife sheathed over his hip.
Kye’s eyes flickered to the man. “Go, Maren.”
I didn’t move.
His jaw tensed. “Go, damn it.”
Their backs toward me, I could run. I glanced wildly at the pathway leading up the cliffside back to the castle. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t leave him.
Water—water was everywhere. It seemed to call to me more than I to it, but I recoiled from the invitation. Holding a hand to Hadrian’s chest as I manipulated the moisture inside him was one thing. I couldn’trevealmyself to men unless I planned to kill them.
And I didn't know if I could kill all four of them.
