Page 61 of Thief of Hearts

I had thought he might be gentle, persuasive.

This was anything but. He was frenetic, demanding. Like he was worried he wouldn’t get to do this again. Which was strange because he knew I wouldn’t stop him.

It was a heady feeling to be claimed like this. Because that was what he did. He claimed me.

Every kiss sent the same message.

Mine.

In one moment kissing him was like trying to kiss a flame on a candle—he was quick, ephemeral, dancing from one place to the next. And then a moment later he was solid, real. Touching and kissing me everywhere, all at once.

He returned to my mouth and this kiss was filled with want and need. Filaments of pleasure shot through me, along with swells of tingles that ensnared me by making my limbs go weak. He had caught me and I was glad that he had.

Zain changed the rhythm of the kiss, the position he’d been in, and it somehow made everything even better. This was otherworldly. Lyrical. Consuming. There was an urgency and heat I’d never felt before, and I worried that I’d spend the rest of my life craving it. I wanted this feeling to rush to its inevitable conclusion and also to stay this way forever.

“I didn’t know it would be like this,” I whispered as he kissed his way down my neck.

“I did,” he said into my skin, making me shiver all over again. He reached down to pull me to him and his fingers dug into my hips.

When I made a small sound of pain, he immediately stopped, pulling back from me and letting me go.

“What? What are you doing?” I demanded, out of breath.

He was breathing hard, too. He watched me, the intensity of his gaze making me want to tug him back down to me.

“I’m so sorry,” he finally said. “I forgot.”

“So did I.” I didn’t want him to stop. I reached for him and he backed away. I let my arms drop, feeling confused.

Rejected.

“Don’t,” he said, studying my expression. “It’s not what you’re thinking. I have plans for you, my illora. And all of them require you to be fully healed. I will wait.”

Blood pulsated in my ears.

Oh.

“I want you to rest. Your recovery is what matters most,” he added. He lay down on the bed, closing his eyes. I pulled my tunic back down into place.

What did I do now? Should I move back to my cot? Was there a dignified way to do that that wouldn’t involve me scooting over?

Zain solved my dilemma for me by drawing me close to him. “We should conserve body heat by sharing a bed. It’s more economical.” He opened his eyes. “Unless you’ve never shared a bed with a man before.”

“You would not be the first,” I told him.

“Perhaps not, but I would be the best.”

“You’d be the most arrogant.” I had no right to say that to him, given the maelstrom of sensation he’d just swept me up in, but I couldn’t help myself.

“It isn’t arrogance if I know it would be earth-shattering.” He kissed me on my forehead. “Go to sleep, my illora.”

I nestled my head against his shoulder as he held me, fully enclosing me in his arms.

I had never really felt unsafe in my life, especially once I’d discovered I was battle-favored. But there was a safety in his arms that was unfamiliar to me. It wasn’t that he’d keep me from harm—I could do that myself.

No, it felt more like . . .

Like finally finding the place where I belonged.