Elyria closed the door and wandered over to give the cat a reassuring scratch under her chin, no longer needing the support of her staff to keep her upright, though she kept one hand tightly clasped around it.
But with her renewed strength and control, came renewed questions. “You really didn’t feel it?” she asked Cedric, who had followed her over to the bed, his face still flushed. “Not this”—sheturned and put her hand over his heart—“but the strangeness?”
“I—sort of? I feltsomething, like a kind of...I don’t know how to describe it. Just being ill at ease?” He placed his hand over hers, holding it against him. “But it wasn’t coming from me. I think it came from you.” His scar twisted as he pursed his lips, dropping his hand. “It made me nervous. To the point where I had to come check on you. What do you think it means?”
Elyria hesitated, feeling the beat of Cedric’s heart under his tunic.Ba-bump. Ba-bump.Something told her he wasn’t just referring to the strangeness of her room.
Elyria trailed her hand up Cedric’s chest, to where the neckline of his tunic was just wide enough to reveal the thin, crescent-shaped line above his collarbone.
What does it mean?The question echoed in her head, feeling like it came from somewhere outside herself. After all, it’s not like she didn’t know. Try as she might to deny it, there was clearly so much more to this than she ever could have expected.
Ever thought she deserved.
She didn’t know what would happen if she were to voice it aloud. Were to speak the words.
You’ve already claimed him, you selfish idiot,screamed her thoughts.Why deny it any longer?
As though reading her mind, Cedric’s words were soft when he said, “You don’t have to say it. Maybe this is just the stars’ way of telling us to embrace our last night together.”
The room got even colder. “Our last night,” she echoed. “I hate that it is.”
Cedric rested his forehead against hers, his hands going to her hips. His heated touch warmed her skin, her bones, the very air between them shimmering. “I do too,” he murmured. “But if it’s going to be, even if it’s just the last onefor now, shouldn’t we make it count?”
Elyria’s grip slackened on her staff as Cedric tilted his chin down to place a gentle kiss on her lips. He pulled back, just a fraction, his gold-ringed eyes questioning, waiting. The staff slipped from her fingers entirely as she threw her arms around his neck, pulling his mouth back to hers. She didn’t even hear the sound of it hitting the floor. Not whenher ears were filled with Cedric’s needy groan, his hold tightening on her hips, pulling her against him.
It was as though his heat traveled through her, carving a line straight to Elyria’s core as her lips parted, opening herself to the exploration of his tongue, the sunlit taste of him. His charred sandalwood scent was all around her. She tried pushing him back toward the bed, but he broke away, breathing heavily.
“Elle, what I was trying to tell you earlier”—he sucked in a breath like he meant to draw strength from it—“it’s about Tenny and me. Our shared history. There’s nothing to it anymore but?—”
She released a breathy laugh. “Sucha worrywart. I am aware you two have a history. Should I care that you do? You’re a grown man. I am not naive enough to think you are coming to meunbesmirched.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “Is it in the past?”
“Yes,” he said firmly. “But her father?—”
She cut him off by placing a gentle finger on his lips. “That sounds very much likehisburden to deal with then, doesn’t it?”
“All right then.” Cedric kissed the pad of her finger, then nodded sharply—once, twice. As if settling something in his own mind. “In that case, I just want to make it clear that there is no such thing as settling scores anymore, do you hear me?” His voice was low, strained. “No such thing as an even slate between you and me. In fact, if I have my way, the slate will be very, veryuneven—forever.”
Elyria smirked. “But I thought you liked it when I have my way,Ric.”
Cedric’s answering grin was almost feral. “And you can have it again, but only after I’m done with you.”
Elyria wanted to laugh, that strange sluggishness all but gone, any lingering discomfort all but dissipated. She bent to retrieve her staff from where it had fallen and rolled halfway under the bed. Pulling it out, she said, “As you wish, Sir?—”
She stopped mid-sentence. Froze. Dropped the staff again, not missing the way it clattered against the wooden planks this time.
“Elle, what?—”
Elyria’s brow creased as she stared at her hand.
At the traces of red streaking her palm.
“Ric?” she said, and he was immediately at her side, crouching andsnapping his fingers so that a low flame danced in his palm.
Elyria sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes going from her own hand to the staff now laying once again at her feet.
And the blood smeared across both.
She grabbed Cedric’s hand, drawing his fire closer to the bed so that it could illuminate what lay underneath.
