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Back up?Realization slapped him in the face. “Valcotta, no! Valcotta, it’s too far!” But she was already sprinting toward the gap. A gap a full foot wider than it had been the last time she’d failed to make the leap. “Stop!”
She jumped.
30
ZARRAH
Book still clutched in her hand, Zarrah sprinted toward the gap. It drew closer with every step, the blackness seeming an impossible to distance to leap, the deadly water rushing through it fighting the volume of her thundering heart for supremacy.
“Stop!”
Gathering herself, Zarrah took one final stride, and without hesitation, she jumped. She flew across the gap, stumbling slightly as she hit the far side. And then his arms were around her, pulling her away from the edge.
“Have you lost your mind?”
His breath was warm against her face, and she tilted her head up to meet his gaze even as she inhaled the scent of spice filling her nose. “An unreasonable accusation, given how often you jump across, Maridrina.”
“That’s different.” He still hadn’t let her go, his grip on her arms tight, their bodies only inches apart. Except those inches felt like miles when what she wanted was the press of him against her. To experience in the flesh what she’d only felt within the confines of her dreams.
“Why is it different?”
He exhaled softly. “Because watching you jump was the most terrifying moment of my life.” And before she could answer, his lips descended on hers.
What her imagination had conjured was a pale shade to the sensation of his mouth on hers, the kiss fierce with terror and desire, the intensity making her knees tremble. Still holding the book, she wrapped her arms around his neck, eliminating those cursed inches between them, her fingers pulling loose the tie holding back his hair, the locks that spilled around his face like silk against her skin.
His hands moved from her shoulders, sliding down to the small of her back even as their lips parted, his tongue delving into her mouth and chasing over hers with soft strokes that Zarrah swore she felt down to her core. Shivers burst over her skin, a tight curling sensation filling her belly, and an aching pulse rising in intensity between her thighs. Then he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers. “Not here, Valcotta,” he murmured. “If I’m going to have you, it will be somewhere I can do it properly and without interruption.”
It was madness to consider going into the city with him. She was a general and the future Empress of Valcotta, and he was a Maridrinian whose name she didn’t even know. But none of that felt as important as the need to have his lips back against hers and his body between her legs. “Where should we go?”
With her hand in his,the Maridrinian led her through Nerastis, the people filling the streets paying them no interest, their minds all for their own pleasures. Stopping in front of a building less derelict than most, he took her inside, the main floor dimly lit by a handful of lamps.
“Room,” he said to the greasy man sitting behind a counter eating equally greasy pastries.
“An hour?”
The Maridrinian snorted, then said, “The rest of the night,” and Zarrah’s stomach flipped, a fresh rush of desire making her skin burn hot.
The greasy man rolled his eyes. “Lass like that and you’ll be down in half an hour, but it’s your silver coin.”
The Maridrinian didn’t answer, only sent a piece of silver flipping through the air, catching the key the man tossed to him in return.
Zarrah’s heart pounded in anticipation as he led her up the stairs and then down the hall, fumbling with the lock and nearly dropping the key before he got the door open, the slip making her smile.
The room was large, the walls and floors bare, but the bed beneath the window looked clean enough to justify the ridiculous price, the thin curtains above it blowing on the breeze. A single table held a lamp, and as she watched, the Maridrinian turned the flame up high, allowing her to see him more fully than she ever had before.
He was paler than most of his countrymen, who tended to darken in the sun, his shoulder-length hair a dark blond that reminded her of fields of wheat. His eyes were light, although their exact hue was lost in the shadows that danced across his face. And that face… He was beautiful in a way that defied reason, that made her want to stop and stare. That made her want to touch him again, if only to prove he was real. “You really ought to spend more time in the sun.”
A slow smile rose to his face. “But all the best things happen at night.”
The velvet tone of his voice tightened something deep in her core, suggesting that tonight, at least, he was right.
They circled each other, Zarrah setting the book on the table before unfastening the harness that held her staff to her back and dropping it to the ground, her knives following suit.
With her past lovers, all had been conducted in the dark, for she’d never felt comfortable being exposed. But with him, she felt different. She’d already exposed her soul to him, and Zarrahwantedhim to see the rest of her.
So she moved to the buckles of her leather corselet, moving slowly down her chest before casting aside the garment. Beneath, she wore only a thin bodice of purple silk, and with a quick jerk, she pulled it over her head, allowing it to flutter to the ground. Her nipples immediately peaked, and her thighs turned liquid as his hungry gaze moved to them.
But when he took a step in her direction, she clicked her tongue and shook her head, not wanting to rush the moment. “Not yet.”
