His kiss deepens. His mouth moves more insistently against mine as if he’s trying to remind himself that this is real. That I’m here, with him. He doesn’t kiss me softly or gently. He devours me as if he’s desperate to get me as close as I can possibly get.
His tongue probes at the seam of my lips, and I open them, allowing him entrance. He tastes me, and our tongues tangle. A groan rumbles through him, and I clutch at his tunic, desperate to keep him close.
We kiss for so long, I lose track of where I end and he begins. There is only this, and us, and it isgood.
Part of me knows we probably shouldn’t be doing this right now. Gabriel just woke up, and Skyler could come back at any minute. It turns out I don’t really care, though. Let her come in. This is more important.
Gabriel is awake, and he’s kissing me like he’s dying and I’m the only thing keeping him alive, and I amhappy. I cling to the Hunter, and our connection hums deeply, and I swear, it’s louder than before. Almost as if I can feel it. But that can’t be right... can it?
There’s no time to question it. The Hunter does this thing with his tongue that has me gasping for air into his mouth, and my thoughts dry up. My fingers spread across his chest, and I feel the ridges of the bandages stretched across his stomach. His skin is warm beneath my touch, a vast improvement from earlier.
He groans against my lips. “Gods, Wren. I fucking missed you.”
And there’s something about the way he says my name and how he reclaims my lips with renewed passion as if he could kiss me for years and not get enough of me, as if he needs me as desperately as I need him, that has me moving even closer.
Sliding my hands beneath the hem of his tunic, I explore the sculpted planes of his chest. He leans into my touch, his fingers sweeping down my front, weighing my breasts before he slides his hand beneath my shirt. At the first feeling of his fingers on my bare stomach, I gasp, and he swallows the sound.
We kiss and kiss until it feels like no time had passed. But it has.
“Oh, gods, Gabe.” I pull back enough to rest my forehead against his. “I felt your absence like a hole in my heart.”
Like I was missing an integral part of myself. And now, every moment, every kiss, is mending the ache inside me.
His hands slip out from under my shirt, but before I can protest, they land on my hips. He moves me effortlessly, placing me on his lap, and I gasp at the bulge beneath me. He’s hard and long and even bigger than I’d imagined—and I’ve spent many nights thinking about how he’d feel.
But my imagination didn’t prepare me for this.
“I’m sorry, Birdie. I didn’t mean to worry you,” he murmurs against my lips.
“I know,” I whisper. No one could plan for what happened. “But it’s over now.”
His mouth lands on mine again. “You brought me back.” Kiss. “I don’t know how, and I don’t really care.” Another kiss. “But I know I’m here because of you.”
His mouth fuses to mine, and he kisses like a man possessed. His fingers dig into my hips, and I grind against him. Needing him.
I don’t hear the door opening.
A throat clears, and Gabriel and I break apart as if we’d been caught doing something illicit. Heat rushes to my cheeks. I press my forehead against Gabriel’s, and a low growl rumbles through him as if he’s as upset by the interruption as I am.
After a moment, I look over my shoulder to the door where Alaric is standing with Skyler and three others. My friend smirks at me, her brow raised in a way that means she’ll definitely want to talk about this later, but she wipes her expression clean when the rebel captain steps past the threshold.
“Pardon the interruption,” Alaric says dryly. “The seer would like a word.”
30
A BEACON FOR BAD LUCK
GABRIEL
Splashing cold water on my face in the cabin’s small bathing room, I avoid looking in the mirror. I already glimpsed myself once, and the pallor of my skin had my gut contorting.
I had been days, maybe less, from death. I know it like I know that kissing Wren is my new favorite activity. Her taste still lingers in my mouth—one I never want to get rid of.
Picking up a tunic from the pile of clothes someone left in here, I slide it over my head and arms. The material is soft, and it doesn’t bother the bandages wrapped around my torso. Hopefully, their presence means Wren hasn’t seen the scars on my back.Whenshe sees them—because there’s no question in my mind that one day, she will—I want to be able to explain where they came from. Who my father is and what he’s done.
But today isn’t that day. After all, the rebels are waiting for us. Rolling out my shoulders to prepare for whatever’s to come, I exit the bathing room.
Alaric, Skyler, and Wren are standing by the front door. “This way.” Alaric gestures outside. “The seer is waiting in the main hall.”
