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“I think it’s worth finding out,” I say. “We need help. Resources.”
Jost’s head snaps back and he stares at me, his eyes on fire. What did I say?
“Sorry I couldn’t provide for you,” he says in a low rumble.
I’m caught off guard by his reaction. I stumble to find words that aren’t angry or annoyed. “I didn’t ask you to.”
He doesn’t respond.
“Is this some sort of male-ego thing?” I ask. “I’m not a damsel in distress. I don’t need you to save me.”
“Maybe I want to save you.” He’s practically growling now. He’s not angry. It’s something else. Something primal. Something I’ve never seen in Jost before, and I understand. He couldn’t save Sebrina, but he wouldn’t lose me.
“That’s noble—”
“There’s nothing noble about it,” he says. His lips are on mine then and they crush so hard that I feel his teeth cut against the soft flesh of my mouth. I’m torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer.
The latter wins out.
But I don’t let him control the kiss. I push back harder as his arms circle my waist, pulling me roughly to him.
“Romantic,” I murmur through our fighting lips.
“Wow. This is your idea of romantic?” he asks. His grip on me loosens and his hands drop from my back. “I need to work on this with you.”
“That’s exactly what I had in mind,” I say, drawing him to me. I trace his shoulders, my fingers trailing along his chest until I bunch his shirt in my fists and force him to me. He doesn’t resist. He wants the world to fade away, too. Even if it’s only for a few minutes.
His mouth forces mine open, and my body reacts in interesting ways. First, there’s the tingle in my fingers I always feel when we kiss, but it spreads out, gathering finally into throbbing energy. We break apart, panting, and then I push him back against the fireplace and kiss him again. His body presses into mine, and he flips me around so that now I’m gripping the stone mantel. The stone is cold, sending shivers rippling through me, but I don’t care. His hands twist and grab my wrists, pinning them up over my head as his lips trace the hollow under my jaw.
“This is romantic,” he says.
“I couldn’t agree more,” I murmur between his kisses.
We continue for a while, laughing and teasing and always kissing, but then he pulls back and his face grows distant. He’s stopping us again.
He doesn’t want you, the voice in my head mocks me. You’re not her. You aren’t his perfect wife.
No. I refuse to believe that. There are more important things than my insecurity right now.
“Jost.” I call him back to me. He doesn’t respond until I take his hand.
Tears pool in his eyes, and I feel the hot prickle of tears in my own.
“What are we going to do?” he asks.
“We’re going to talk to Kincaid,” I say firmly. “We can’t make a move until we know how to get back to Arras. Kincaid will know how.”
“How can we trust him?” Jost asks.
I understand his hesitation, even more so because we both have so much to lose if Kincaid betrays us. Kincaid was Guild once, but so were we. And if the Guild has done anything nearly as terrible to him as they have to us, I can’t blame him for abandoning them. I can’t blame him for wanting to destroy them.
“We don’t have a choice.”
FOURTEEN
I LINGER IN THE GARDENS THAT AFTERNOON when the artificial lights are turned high enough to feel like the sun, replaying Jost’s kiss in my mind. Even as a memory it pulls me apart, shattering me into a thousand glorious pieces that only he can put back together.
I feel eyes on me first, drawing me back to the present, and when I finally spot the man tucked behind a large statue, he saunters out. His smile is too wide, and as he approaches me, he bows. He’s about my height, but his features mimic Valery’s—a thick sweep of black hair and sloping, brown eyes. The lighting system fades as he gets closer to me, and I start to feel app
