Page 49 of Heart of Night and Fire

Vikram and Zarya found a secluded corner with a woven carpet laid on the grass next to a burbling pond swimming with hundreds of rainbow-hued fish. They sat side by side against a pile of cushions, laughter floating on the air from around the garden.

Vikram took Zarya’s hand, his thumb tracing circles on her skin, the touch sending tiny sparks of awareness up her arm. She leaned against him, loving the way his body felt pressed against hers. With his other hand, he ran his thumb along her jaw.

“We were interrupted the other day.”

She nodded, but her heart was pounding so hard she couldn’t form any words. Zarya flicked her eyes skyward as if to check for falling eggs, and Vikram laughed.

“Our luck can’t be that bad.”

“Let’s hope not,” she finally whispered.

He was staring intently now, his eyes dark with lust and need in a way that made her insides tip and spin. As their surroundings receded, Zarya felt only his eyes on her and the responding shiver of her skin.

But he was being so careful, and she couldn’t wait any longer, so she summoned a thread of courage and leaned forward.

“Kiss me,” she said, her voice raw and filled with emotion. Her words seemed to snap something loose because Vikram’s arms were around her in an instant, as his mouth finally crashed into hers with all the desperation she had craved for so long.

He kissed her urgently, their hands roaming over each other’s arms and hips and curves. He shifted so he could lower Zarya to the ground before rolling on top of her, one elbow planted beside her head and a hand gripping her waist.

With her long skirt bunched around her thighs, she wrapped her legs around his hips as he planted a line of hungry kisses down the side of her neck and across her collarbone, dipping to a spot just above the swell of her breast.

He rolled his hips, and she moaned at the unmistakable hardness of his cock, pressing to the wet ache at her center. She met his thrust, craving more pressure, as he traced his tongue along the top edge of her low-cut choli.

His hands didn’t stop moving, his fingers tracing circles along her ribs, tickling along the edge of her top. She whimpered at the spread of his breath, hot against her skin.

She wanted more—she wanted all of him touching all of her body. This was nothing like it had been with the fishing boy in Lahar. This was alive and electric. Vikram knew how to touch her, how to move his body to pull these soft moans from her mouth.

He kissed her harder, his tongue tangling with hers, and she groaned. This was more decadent than Zarya had ever imagined. It was no wonder an entire canon of poetry existed dedicated to this act. She knew it had to be better than her limited and uninspired experiences of the past.

He teased along the waist of her skirt, and she wondered how much further they would go. She was dimly aware that they were outside and might have an audience, but she was having a hard time caring. It was clear this place catered to and encouraged this kind of behavior within its walls.

“Vikram,” a frosty voice said, and they both stilled. Gods, not again.

Zarya looked over to find Yasen watching with his eyebrows drawn together and his shoulders tense. A muscle in his jaw ticked as he stared at his friend.

Vikram scrambled off Zarya. She sat up, adjusting her skirt and pulling up the strap that had slid down her shoulder, feeling foolish and exposed. What had been so electric and thrilling a moment earlier had just turned cheap and tarnished. And she didn’t understand why.

Vikram opened his mouth to say something to Yasen, but nothing came out.

Making a sound of disgust, Yasen gave him another piercing glare before he stormed off.

She exchanged a glance with Vikram. “What just happened?”

Once again, Vikram seemed at a loss for words, so Zarya didn’t wait for a response. She pushed herself up and pursued Yasen, catching up to him as he entered the club, the music and lights folding over them.

“Yasen!” She grabbed him by the hand and forced him to turn towards her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know that you—” She broke off, not really sure what the problem was. “There’s no reason to be jealous—I thought you and I were just friends. I’m sorry.”

Yasen shook off her hand and took a step closer, leaning down to speak directly into her ear. “I’m not jealous,” he said, his voice chipped from the heart of an iceberg. Yasen stepped back, glared again at Vikram, who had come to stand behind her and stalked out of the club.

“Why is he so angry?” she asked.

Something inscrutable crossed Vikram’s expression as he watched Yasen’s silver head melt into the crowd.

“We got into an argument while you were dancing earlier, and he’s still mad at me. He’ll be fine.”

She was sure she caught a flash of hurt in Vikram’s eyes as he attempted to brush the incident off. He turned to her and smiled. “How about another drink?”

“Okay,” Zarya said, letting him lead her towards the bar.