Page 227 of Feralheart

His grin rose. “You did it, didn’t you?”

“I did. Not sure how long she’ll remain there, though.”

“Maybe she’ll go to sleep and leave you alone, at least for now.”

“We can hope.”

“There’s always hope, Feral.”

“I like it when you call me that,” I said.

“Then I’ll use it more often.” His gaze fell to my mouth. “We were kissing when she rudely interrupted.”

“Let’s not waste another minute talking about an impertinent dragon, then. More kissing instead.”

“Agreed.” His hand slid into my hair, angling my head, and he captured my mouth again.

The kiss deepened, turning feverish. Words built in my throat, too big and terrifying to release.

Saying them meant admitting I had something to lose.

A dragon shrieked in the elite camp, the sound cutting through the night, pulling us apart.

We waited to see if more would follow, but the shriek wasn’t repeated.

“This…You…” I stroked his face. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything.” His gaze searched mine. “No matter what happens tomorrow, I’m with you.”

“And I’m with you.”

“We should try to sleep,” I said, though my body was screaming at me not to move.

“Yes.” But his hand tightened on my hip, keeping me there.

Behind the stone I’d buried her under, Selira stayed silent. For once, we were truly alone.

His fingers flexed against my hip, and the bond carried the truth his words wouldn’t. He wanted sleep about as much as I did.

“Liar,” I whispered.

“So are you.” He braced himself above me. The stars caught in his hair. “Say the word and I’ll walk you to your tent right now.”

I latched onto his tunic. “I don’t want to go to my tent right now.”

My body felt hyperaware of everything. Him. The others still sleeping. The way the river flowed, eddying around a boulder before continuing into the far wall. Did it go to another rest stop or back to the start, waiting for the next Scorching to claim a new generation of elites and commons?

His control gave. I felt it snap open down the bond, a heat that sent his mouth crashing back to mine, no longer careful, no longer holding the shape he wore for everyone else. He kissed me like he’d been starving, like I was the first thing set in front of him in years.

His lips left mine and dragged lower. Across my jaw. The line of my throat. The wild flutter beneath my ear that sent me arching up into him. Everywhere he lingered, the bond echoed it back doubled, his want at my undoing folding into mine until we were one.

“Fen.” His name came out half warning, half plea.

“I’m here.” His voice had gone rough. “Always here for you.” His hand slid from my hip to the laces at my waist and stilled there, his knuckles warm against my belly. Even now, even wrecked, he wouldn’t take what I hadn’t given. “Can I touch you?”

“Yes.”

He drew my pants down slowly, over my hips, my thighs, baring me to the night, and the cool air met skin gone fever-hot. He chased the chill with his mouth on the jut of my hipbone, the soft inside of my knee. Moving higher, each kiss a promise he appeared in no hurry to keep.