I’d made it to the entrance, had just curled my fingers over the handle when Caelan caught me by the elbow and whirled me around to face him. The decision to thaw for him wasn’t a conscious one, but when he caught my jaw in one hand and tilted my face up, my chest was alight within a split second. I met his lips without a shred of hesitation, as naturally as taking a breath. It was fuckinginfuriatingto be betrayed by my own body like that. So much so that I couldn’t help but press an edge into my kiss, my teeth dragging at his lip, my fingers twisting and tugging the thick hair at the nape of his neck. He met me with equal verve, backing me into the door so it rattled in its frame with the ferocity of our kiss.
When we broke away to drag deep gasps of the cold Stormsby air, he brushed a thumb over my chafed lips.
“You can be angry at me,” he panted, each word unfurling in a white gust of frozen breath.
“I know I can,” I shot back.
A grin ghosted over his lips, scar tugging.
“You can be angry at me,” he repeated more firmly, “but let’s leave each other with angry kisses over angry words. Deal?”
I stared coldly up at him, letting him sweat for just a moment even as the heat of my magic roared and crackled inside me. Then I rose on my toes and whispered; “Deal.”
I gave his lower lip a sharp parting nip and darted swiftly back as he hissed on an exhale, smoothing a thumb over the bite.
“Fuck’s sake.”
I grinned and he shook his head, fighting a reluctant smile of his own.
“Later then, Rosie.”
“Captain.”
I offered him a mocking salute and a final smirk before I slipped back inside.
???
I could only assume our slow afternoon was a sign that the news of Johnny McAlpine’s death had spread. Not even Roy had made an appearance, for perhaps the first time in years. But for once I was glad for the stillness of the tavern. Sorcha and I spent the afternoon sitting with Ciara. Listening. Coaxing her to eat little bits of bread and sip on tea. After a time, we relented to her insistence on drowning her sorrows for just a few hours. We watched her get carefully and methodically drunk, and by the time the sun set, she was ready to lay down to a dreamless sleep in the Captain’s old room.
I, on the other hand, slept barely a wink that night.
I stayed up for the Kingsmen’s return. I made love to the Captain, blisteringly slow and edged with an odd sort of ache I couldn’t quite name. And when he eventually fell asleep, I lay beside him for hours drifting in and out of shallow dreams.
In the darkest hours of the night I found myself suddenly and acutely awake. The moment my eyes flew open, I had the sense that something had woken me; a noise or a flicker of movement. My heart was racing, the glow of my magic poised in my fingertips, ready to ignite some unseen threat.
But with every second of silence that passed, the heat in my hands ebbed until the drowsy grip of fear finally faded into the still night, and I turned on my side to face a sleeping Caelan. My Flame gilded his handsome face, its glow pulsing when my heart gave a foolish little flutter.
I had known the last few days were wearing on him, but to see him now, entirely unguarded and at peace, it occurred to me just how much tension he normally carried in his brow, his jaw, even in his scar, which was so often pulled taut against a frown. With his features relaxed, it seemed fainter; barely there at all. I reached out absently to trace the smooth skin with my fingertips – and cried out when Caelan’s fingers suddenlysnatched my wrist.
His eyes had blown wide, the green of his irises almost acidic. Bewildered and alarmed, he dropped my wrist and brushed his fingers over the spot on his face where he’d felt my touch.
“Shit,” he breathed. “I’m sorry. I don’t–I thought I–are you alright?”
“I’m fine.” I managed a shaky smile. “Just got a fright.”
“I’m sorry,” he groaned again. He took my hand in his and brushed a bracelet of kisses to my slightly pink skin.
“It’s my fault,” I said, though I turned my arm in his hands to give him my inner wrist and suppressed a shiver when his lips pressed to the sensitive skin there. “I was just…”
I trailed off, feeling suddenly sheepish.
His mouth paused against my skin – then resumed with one long, lingering kiss to my palm before he laced our fingers.
“Curious? About my scar?”
I nodded wordlessly, and he tucked our bound hands to his chest.
“I’ve had it so long I s’pose I forget it’s there sometimes.”
