“Move with me.”
His warm breath grazed my skin, sending a tingle down my spine. The closeness of his body became overpowering. His chest pressed close, our arms entwined. Our hips nestled against each other, and his leg hooked around mine, drawing me closer.
Stepping again, I mirrored the movement. A low rumble of approval escaped him, eliciting a delightful tightness low in my belly. His arm moved in a gentle motion, and I followed his lead, in sync with him.
I wondered if this was what those fancy ballroom dances were like. Sensing his subtle cues, I flowed with his movements rather than being directed or coerced. We spun together in a fluid dance, synchronized to the haunting melody crafted by the priests.
As time stretched, I began to grasp the ritual and the importance of moving as one. He was mine now, but more than that, I was his—in ways beyond his comprehension. I was his to safeguard, his to embrace and cherish. He served as my guardian, a shield and sword at my side.
We moved together, a seamless melding that blurred the lines of who led and who followed. As we glided through the water, the plants on the pool’s floor radiated a vibrant spectacle, glowing brighter with each graceful step.
As the song crescendoed, our pace quickened. Sainte’s movements became swifter, and I anticipated each step, moving in harmony. He mirrored me, without constraint or hindrance or confinement.
We were one.
He propelled me away, and a gasp escaped as our connection broke. The intensity of the moment dissipated with the priests’ final note, and Sainte drew me back into his embrace, tucking me against his chest. His breaths were ragged, as though he just finished a race, and I found myself mirroring his rapid inhales and exhales. My gaze drifted down to his water-dampened lips before returning to meet his hungry eyes.
The priests raised their voices as one. “Vele Valahant!”
Chapter 16
That night, I lay awake in my bed, motionless, silent, lest I disturb the man sleeping nearby.
Planks of wood covered the window until a glass smith could repair it, and staff brought a cot for Sainte’s use. His proximity unsettled me. Yes, we slept together on the road, but this was different, more intimate. This closeness wasn’t forced by a rushed journey. He was a part of me now.
My Valahant.
Our moment in the pool repeated in my mind in an endless loop. The memory replayed in vivid detail—his hands enveloping mine, how good his hard body felt pressed against mine.
Frustration quickened my pulse, and I shoved myself upright. Silently, I threw my legs over the bedside and took three soft steps. Sainte rested on the cot with one arm shielding his head, his gaze meeting mine in the lantern’s dim glow from the adjacent room.
Without a word or question, he drew in a slow breath, then rose. His blankets dropped to his waist.
The exposed skin clashed with my emotions, warming my cheeks.
I ignored him, then headed for the receiving area. After I grabbed the lantern, I wandered into my dressing room. I donned thin slippers and a light cloak before spinning on my heel to leave–
Only to collide with Sainte.
Dressed in a thin tunic and dark trousers, he adorned his belt with two daggers. His gaze fixed on me while securing his leather chest piece. Swelling and bruises marked his face, unexpectedly stirring a maternal instinct—as though I were responsible for his well-being.
As I squeezed through the doorway, my chest brushed against his arm. I crossed the room with his silent steps trailing mine. When I opened the door, I was grateful for the oiled hinges, a small mercy during late-night wanderings.
Down the hall, I dimmed the lantern to a flickering flame, then entered Lyana’s room without bothering to knock. After I placed it on a small wooden dresser, I glanced over the royal decor. Golden threads in the curtains and tapestries shimmered in the lantern’s light, adding a touch of elegance to the cozy space.
I kicked off my slippers, then draped my cloak over a chair as Sainte eased the door shut. At the bedside, I lifted the blankets and slid underneath. Lyana let out a sigh, swatting at me, accidentally striking my face. I grunted as I settled onto the bed and tucked the furs to my chin.
“El?” she whispered, groggy with slumber.
I rubbed my cheek. “Shh, sleep.”
“El?”
“Ethyan?!” I jerked upright, hissing as my stitches pulled.
His silhouette straightened in the chair near the window.
“I was scared,” Lyana murmured, pulling me close.
