Page 89 of The Stolen Crown

Every limb, from top to bottom, held the most colorful birds I’d ever seen. Not the screeching creatures from the village and sinking sand. These birds were stunning. Long tail feathers the shade of sapphires or wet moss. On their heads, feathers coiled in a sort of puff of red and orange and copper shades.

Twitters and a few squawks greeted us. Larger birds stepped in front of the smaller creatures and eyed us from above like we might reach up and snatch them at any moment.

Tait tilted his head back and grinned. “Aren’t they incredible?”

“I’ve never seen birds like this.”

“Nor I. We have bright fowl in the Ever, but nothing like this, nothing so large.”

“They’re beautiful.”

Sunlight set in the sky, and the wash of rich, warm shades only brightened the birds amidst the leaves. Tait slipped an arm around my waist and tugged me against his side. Dozens of the birds took flight, then circled around the treetops in a wave of hues and gentle calls. As though bidding us farewell, the birds left us with sweet calls before they flew off into the distance.

I could not look away from the peace written in the smile on Tait’s face. Rarely did the man let down his guard; rarely did he stop surviving.

In this moment, I was not certain I’d ever seen a more lovely sight.

A hundred words I wanted to say danced across my tongue. I kissed him instead. Sweet and thorough. One hand on Tait’s cheek, I arched my neck to reach his mouth and told him everything through my kiss.

How he was a surly sod.

How his hidden heart was enormous.

How I was falling in love with every piece of him.

The kiss turned into something desperate. Soon enough, I lay sprawled over the top of his body, my thighs straddling his hips.

Our breaths tangled. I dug my fingers into his hair, pulling at the roots. His sly mouth parted my lips. The command of his tongue against mine sent my head spiraling. Since our first kiss, Tait had never shied from passion with our mouths. He tasted like the sweet air of the isle and the heat of desire.

He rolled over and pinned me beneath his hard body. For half a breath, we merely stared at each other. I drew in a sharp gasp when the feathery sensation of his fingernails trailed up the front of my leg. He didn’t look away when he wrapped my leg around his waist. He didn’t look anywhere but in my eyes, reading for my own want, my own desire, when his fingers slipped beneath my chemise.

My skin felt as though every pulse of blood was molten and overheated. I swallowed and let my knee fall to one side. Tait’s thumb ran along the inside of my thigh. Heart racing, I reached for the hem of his tunic.

We had not crossed such lines, but I studied his eyes, looking for the tension, the unease. I’d yet to find it.

Tait explored my neck, my jaw. He helped me slide the tunic over his head and toss it aside. I memorized the hard planes of his chest, the damp heat of his skin. I pressed a kiss to the inked skull on his chest.

Hip to hip, I arched against him and took a great deal of pleasure in the way Tait Heartwalker moaned into my mouth. As if any more friction would cause him to unravel entirely.

When my fingers trailed down the chiseled strength of his stomach, Tait shuddered. He pulled back enough to look between us and watch the way my hand reached for the buckle of his belt.

“Mira,” he said, voice low.

“Sorry.” I pulled back.

“No.” He gripped my wrist. “Before I continue, I must hear that you want…this. That you want my touch.”

My head spun. “Yes, I want you. I want anything you have to give.”

Tait curled his palm around my wrist and guided my fingers down to the strained bulge of his cock. I did not question him. Bit by bit, I worked on freeing his heavy length.

Tait groaned and winced when my fingers curled around the middle and stroked his velvet skin.

“All right?” I whispered.

He didn’t respond, merely kept his attention on my hand as he rocked into my grip. Tait lowered to his elbows, head bent, almost studying what was happening, then…

“Gods.” He pulled back until he was off me completely. He did not stand but curled over his knees, his fingers speared in his hair. “Shit, shit, shit.” He kept hissing curses, and I could not tell if frustration was leveled at himself or how far we’d taken this.