Page 60 of Prince of the Sun

He nods.

“I get that. The gymnasium was my escape, back in Minnesota. Home was just… it was filled with so much grief. I could hardly stand to be around my mother most of the time. But with my team, there was no mourning. No pity, either. Just single-minded focus.”

“And companionship.”

When I look over, Daerios is staring right at me. Shivers creep down my neck, spanning my arms like wings. “And companionship,” I whisper.

Daerios lifts a hand. Slowly, he lowers it onto mine, which is splayed open on the dock. One five-pointed star covering another.

My heart picks up speed. Is this going to happen again? Are we going to kiss? I know we shouldn’t. Even if I’ve left Regular Quinn back on campus, when I return to her, she will retain the same intentions. She will still betray the boy beside me, the one leaning closer now, nose only a breath from mine. And even if sheweren’twaiting for me, what could ever become of this relationship? Nothing. That’s the answer. Nothing, because it is forbidden by King Varith. I heard so from Saechon himself.

I’m about to pull away, to say that it’s getting dark, that we should be headed home, when a rain droplet splatters the top of my head.

“What the…?”

I look up. In the time we’ve been talking, the clouds have gathered in earnest. They’re curling angrily, trenches of grey-black promising a downpour.

“Oh, dear,” says Daerios. “We should—”

And then God sets the heavens free.

It’s torrential. One second, we’re bone-dry. The next, a flood unleashes, soaking us through to our skin before we can even think about seeking shelter. But despite the fact that it’s October in New England, the rain is warm. It runs down my face in gentle rivulets.

We struggle to our feet. “We need to go,” says Daerios. “This will pass soon, and—”

“Wait.”

No one is more surprised to hear the word come out of my mouth than I am. Daerios looks at me, brows furrowed. Waiting for an explanation. I’m stuck, trussed to the dock like a sail to a mast. I don’t want to leave. Not yet. Today was the most fun I’ve had in ages, and even though I know it was all pretend, even though I must eventually shatter this bubble of make-believe, along with every precious shard of trust that Daerios and I have glued together, I’m not ready. I want to stay.

I meet Daerios’s gaze. “Let’s swim.”

His eyebrows climb higher than I’ve ever seen them go.

“I’m serious.” I plunge forward before I can stop myself. “We’re already soaked. Why not see it all the way through?”

For a long moment, he just stares at me, and I think he’s going to say no. That it’s too late, or that Vorrok needs us. But then his lips curl into a hellish little grin and he undoes the clasp on his cloak. It falls to the ground in a forgotten bundle.

I mirror his action, placing one hand to either side of my Harvard sweatshirt and pulling it up and off. When my head reemerges from the cotton, Daerios is undoing his shirt button by button. I watch him work, deft little fingers unhooking each clasp. When he’s halfway done, something—God help me, I don’t know what—compels me to walk over and brush his hands away. To do the rest of the job for him. When my hands reach his belt, I tug the shirt loose, hands grazing the elvish silk as I help his arms out. Then his shirt falls to meet his cloak, and he’s bare-chested before me.

I inhale, about to step away when I feel a gentle hand on my hip. I look up into his eyes. They’re a luminous silver amongst the raindrops. “My turn,” he whispers. Then he grips the bottom of my shirt with both hands and pulls it over my head.

When I reemerge, we’re shirtless before each other. Me in my bra, him utterly bare. My eyes drift downward, taking in the curve of his chest, the flawless skin, a dusky bronze darkening with the gathering clouds. When my eyes crawl back up to his, he’s smirking.

“Arrogant bastard,” I whisper, which only makes him smile wider. Then I step back and start to unbutton my pants. He does the same, unhooking his leather belt and tugging it free from his sturdy elvish britches. In tandem, we wiggle our legs free, letting fabric fall to wood.

Our eyes don’t leave each other the whole time.

Rain showers our near-naked bodies from every angle. I know my bra and lace underwear are see-through by now. He can see almost all of me: the soft skin of my stomach, with its dimples and folds. The outline of my breasts, which, since coming to college, have grown to an embarrassingly unwieldy size. I start to shrink back, nervous for what he’ll think of my curved human body.

Daerios grabs my wrist, keeping me from moving away. Hiseyes travel the length of my body, taking me in. There’s a fire to them, a hunger, and I feel it heating me from the inside out.

“Race you,” I whisper.

I turn and sprint for the end of the dock. But Daerios is faster, and just as I’m about to jump into the air, his body tackles mine. I screech with wild laughter as we spin through the air, hitting the water as one tangled mess.

It’s cold. Very cold. As cold as the rain should have been. But as we burst to the surface, gasping in dual breaths of air, I find that I barely notice the cold. I’m too distracted by the shape of Daerios’s shoulders in the skittering waves. By his slicked-back black hair and the fullness of his lips. I paddle toward him, stopping only when I’m close enough that our hands graze as we keep afloat.

“No,” he says at last.