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I hesitated where I stood, not certain I liked where this was going. “Why? What do you want me to do?”
“I want to look at your hands,” he said, as easily as if he were talking about the weather. “They may hold clues about the truth.”
Heart pounding, I took slow steps toward him. When I reached him, my boots slid in between his. The difference in our sizes was shockingly apparent. His feet were enormous, dwarfing my own in comparison.
He held out his hand to me, palm up. “Let me see.”
I started to reach out to him, but then paused with my fingers hovering above his palm. “The God of Death kills by touch.”
“You’ve already touched me more than once, and I’m still breathing. Let me see your hand.”
I dropped my hand into his. The warmth of his skin seeped into me, and a shuddering breath escaped my lungs. He flipped my hand over, bringing my palm up to his eyes. His thumb traced the deep lines in my skin, from the top of my forefinger down to the bottom right where my hand met my wrist.
“Do you see anything?” I whispered to him, wondering at how even the smallest touch could bring such a violent reaction from my heart. It felt as if it might pound its way right out of my chest.
“The rumor was that Andromeda’s constellation was etched onto her palms.” He sighed and met my gaze. “I’m not sure if this means anything at all, but the lines on your hands are close to that.”
I sucked in a breath and snatched my hand to my chest, cradling it there. “So, it’s true.”
“I did not say that,” he countered. “I said those lines are close. I’m sure there are dozens of other palms that look just as similar.”
“My father thought it,” I said. “There must have been a reason.”
“Even if it’s true, it’s unlikely you would have any of her powers. She was here in this world long ago. Centuries have passed, and generations. The magic would be diluted.” He held out his hand toward me once again.
“I can’t touch you,” I whispered.
“Yes, you can.” Kalen gently pulled my hand away from my chest and placed my palm against his face. His gaze stayed firm and steady; his shoulders were relaxed. He had complete faith in me, no matter where I came from, but I did not know if I could have that same faith in myself. “See? I’m still alive.”
I let him pull me a little closer, until I stood between his thighs, one hand on his cheek and the other desperate to get tangled in his hair. He wound his arm around my waist and splayed his hand against my lower back. And even though I was standing, our eyes were almost level.
“You don’t have to be afraid of touching me, love,” he murmured, his chest rumbling against mine.
A desperate need clenched between my thighs as the weight of the past few weeks shattered around me. I’d fought so hard to stay calm and in control, to not give in to my impulses. Not just for my sake, but for the safety of everyone else. I’d bitten my tongue when I’d wanted to fight. I’d followed every order, no matter how much I’d wanted to revolt. I’d stayed my hand when my fingers itched to plunge another dagger into Oberon’s heart.
I’d clung to every scrap of control I could muster.
And now I wanted nothing more than to let it all go, to give in and lose myself in the arms of this man. I didn’t want to fight anymore. I just wanted him.
Twenty-Seven
Tessa
Ileaned into him. The beat of his heart matched the pounding rhythm of mine, and the hands on my back pressed me closer. With a shaky breath, I palmed his chest, feeling the ridges of his muscles through the soft tunic—muscles I’d dreamed of in the dungeon. I’d replayed memories of him, thinking I’d never again touch him like this.
His eyes darkened, and a lazy smile curled his lips.
“Hello, love,” he said to me, and just those two words on his lips sent another bolt of fiery need through my core.
“Hello, Kalen.”
He practically purred as he slid his hands down my backside, gripped my thighs, and then lifted me from the floor in one fluid motion. The next thing I knew, I was sitting on his lap with my legs around his waist.
“I love the way my name sounds on your tongue.” His eyes dipped to my lips, as if he were thinking about more than just his name in my mouth. Truth be told, so was I. “But it’s your moans I’m most desperate to hear.”
My heart lurched. “Kalen.”
“And if you moanmy name, all the better.” Eyes darkening, he reached behind me and lifted my braid over my shoulder and his fingers skimmed its twined strands. I tracked his every move, scarcely daring to breathe. When he reached the end, he curled his hand into a fist and gave the braid a little tug, drawing my lips to his.
