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She refused the urge to hide the markings, hide her pain.
He touched the spot behind her heart, where she knew the heart of her forging tattoo started. “Here, there’s so much ink it’s almost black.” His finger trailed toward her shoulder. “Then the symbols lighten, becoming more purple.” Dipping between their bodies, his finger skated over her collarbone and up her neck. “And then it’s these crashing blue waves. It’s so colorful.”
Thinking of those tattoos made her feel vulnerable, but it felt too good when he touched her. She didn’t want anyone else to see them but him. She didn’t trust anyone else with them.
“It’s beautiful.” His voice was rough. “You’re beautiful.”
He made her feel beautiful.
Iryana leaned forward and kissed him, her mouth soft and gentle. Telling him how she felt.
She was flushed again when Pyetar pulled away. He reached for their pants and the underlayers that went beneath them, helped pull hers on without letting the coat fall away, then pulled on his own. She reached for her shirt, but he just pulled her to him.
“With the coat, we’re warm enough,” he argued. “And your skin…”
She chuckled. “Okay.” And draped herself over his chest.
He seemed to relax beneath her weight, hands running up and down her back like he couldn’t get enough of the feel. Iryana found herself running her fingers through the hair on his chest. Rising and falling every time he breathed. His skin was so warm.
Leaning back slightly, Iryana traced her fingers over the forging tattoo. She hadn’t gotten a good look at it before, but the way his tattoos seemed to wrap around his chest reminded her of something…
Like chains.
His hand wrapped around hers, stilling her finger. Understanding softened those blue eyes.
“I still don’t understand why the Keepers have to mark us with it,” she said softly. She didn’t like to see his pain permanently marked on his skin any more than she enjoyed seeing her own.
“There’s no use hiding from it.”
“It truly doesn’t bother you?”
“I like that you can see me,” he admitted. “All of me. The good and the bad.”
She leaned down, kissing a spot where the markings overlapped, a darkened mass of symbols.
“How are you really doing?” she asked.
He sighed, staring up at the ceiling. Iryana traced the silhouette of his profile with her gaze. That strong jaw, full lips, straight nose, hooded brows.
“I’m just trying not to feel trapped.”
Her stomach dropped.
“I couldn’t leave before because of Karvek, and I can’t leave now without betraying our allies.” He slammed his eyes shut.
“You’re good at it, though,” she admitted, as if it was a consolation.
His gaze pierced her. “The soldiers will only follow one thing. Strength. Power. I don’t want to be that anymore. I want to figure out who I am.”
“You’ll find your way,” she promised. But his words kept roiling in her.
Iryana wanted to keep him, but she would never trap him. She’d give him whatever space he needed to figure that out. Once he stepped down as general, if he even still wanted to in the end, maybe she’d suggest he spend some time traveling. Make sure he knew what he wanted.
She hoped it was her. But perhaps it wouldn’t be. And perhaps her family wouldn’t let her have him, anyway.
He shushed her, pulling her against him. “Let’s sleep.”
Iryana settled against his body, molding herself against the muscles at her back. To sink into the warmth. To memorize the feel of him as sleep claimed her.
