Brushing his fingers across Evylin’s shoulder, Deckard drew a circle over her lightly tanned skin, marveling at its softness. Then he frowned. He’d always been pale compared to her, but the disparity of their different hues had narrowed. She’d lost so much of her color in the overcast skies of Wauld. When he first met Evylin, she’d glowed with warmth, her complexion like rich cider, and her hair a deep walnut. This dreary country had dulled that radiance.
Time in the sun would refresh her outward appearance, but Deckard wondered if a future in the Alliance would dull the woman she was internally. No matter what they asked of him, no matter the promise he’d given Auden, he’d made vows to her long before, and he wouldn’t bind her to a life any less than she deserved. That was his priority. He wouldn’t let her be stifled. He would give her adventure and wonder, unencumbered by the world around her. Should the Alliance’s requests prove to require anything that would conflict with that goal, Deckard would have to accept the mark on his integrity and break his promise to Auden.
Deckard pressed another kiss upon Evylin’s forehead. Yes, he would take her wherever she wanted to go, do whatever she wanted to do, and live whatever life would make her happiest because she was all that mattered.
Evylin flinched at his touch and pressed her face into his neck, letting out a soft hum of agitation. She rolled farther on top of him, her shoulder blades emerging from the blanket to catch the sunlight. “It’s too bright,” she grumbled, voice muffled on his skin.
Enjoying her attempted escape from the morning, Deckard chuckled. “Are you complaining about the one day of sunshine inWauld?” he asked, and she groaned in response, eliciting more laughter from him. “You’re such a grump when you wake.”
She lifted her head just enough to glower at him. “And you’re too cheerful. We all have our faults.”
Catching her face in his hands before she could hide it again, Deckard held her deep amber gaze. He smiled at her sleepy scowl. “Good morning,” he said, running his thumbs over her cheekbones.
It took a moment, but her small dimples pierced her cheeks as she pressed her lips together, attempting not to smile.
Considering it a victory, Deckard leaned in to kiss her. “Did you sleep well?” he asked, resting back against the pillows.
Evylin shifted over him, her weight a pleasant pressure against his ribcage. She tucked her wavy hair behind her ears, then propped herself up to meet his gaze again. “I slept very well,” she said, then raised her brow. “Though I certainly could have slept longer had someone not opened the curtains.”
“I would apologize, but I’m afraid I’m not sorry.”
“You’re not sorry to wake me?”
“Not at all,” he said, pleased by her shiver as he ran his fingers along her back. “I was getting lonely.”
Evylin chewed on her bottom lip, her eyes dropping despite the smirk that pulled at the corner of her mouth. Even now, naked and wrapped together, she still blushed at his hint. “Is that so?”
Deckard nodded, content with the slowness of their touches.
Her fingers traced his collarbone. “That’s awfully selfish of you,” she said.
“It’s difficult being selfless all the time,” he teased.
“Mm.” She failed to hide her grin. “I can’t decide whether to punish you or be grateful you’re finally showing some sort of failing.”
Deckard scoffed. “I have plenty of failings. You know many of them.”
“Oh, yes, you’re right.” She pursed her lips as though in deep thought. “First,” she ticked off one finger, “of course, you’re unbearably patient. Second, you care far too much about people. Third, you’re infuriatingly kind. Fourth—”
He grabbed her hands, laughing with embarrassment. “Stop, I understand.”
Evylin gasped in faux shock. “Pardon me, sir, but I’ll need you to let go of my hands.”
“For what purpose?”
“I’m not done yet,” she said, then broke free of his grip. “Now, where was I? Oh, yes. Fourth.”
Deckard shook his head, tipping it back to stare at the crimson canopy above them.
“You love me,” she continued, “so that proves you’re mad. Fifth, you are immeasurably and cruelly handsome. Sixth...” She paused, tipping her head to the side in exaggerated ridicule. Her eyes scanned his face as his dropped to hers again, which lingered on his lips. “You’re far too good at kissing. I don’t believe anyone should be capable of such power.”
Deckard screwed up his face, the flattery adorably irritating. “What sort of power is that?” he asked.
Leaning in, Evylin drew the tip of her nose along his and whispered, “The power to dominate my every thought.”
The slow, gentle touches were no longer enough. Deckard closed the gap between them, his hands gripping her arms as his lips met hers. She responded with the same desire and enthusiasm, her fingers sliding up his neck and into his hair. Most often, their kisses began softly and cautiously. Now, after the past several minutes of skin-on-skin touches and flirtations, neither wasted time on such gentility.
Eager to get on with the venture that lay before them, Deckard’s hands wandered while hers cradled his head, keeping their kisses deep and impassioned. The tingle of magic met him, coiling low in his gut, present but patient as though satiated by her touch.
