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Gwen’s heart had never been more broken or more full at the same time before in her life. She wanted to cry for him—she wanted to hold him and tell him it was all going to be okay. That she loved him, that she understood him, that she wanted to never leave his side again.
But what would be the point, if one or both of them was going to be dead soon?
The dread that filled her was beyond anything she’d ever felt before. War was coming. And it was comingsoon.It had been three or four days since she had parted ways with Grinn and Doc, and that meant, any second now, all this would end. Which meant she had only one thing to do.
She couldn’t stop the war. She couldn’t stop people from dying. So, she vowed to enjoy tonight for what it was. Savor the moment. That was what he was trying to get her to do. So damn it all, she was going to do exactly that. When she broke the kiss, she smiled at him and ran a hand through his iron-gray hair. It was so damn soft and had no business being anything of the sort. It was right then that she realized she hadn’t really…touched him. Not exactly. They’d had sex a few times, but it was all with him driving the bus and her being along for the proverbial ride.
She stroked her fingers along his cheek. The slight rasp of a day’s worth of stubble was prickly against her palm, but she found she liked it. He was a brutal warlord when it came down to it. He should feel like one.
He rested his forehead against hers, clearly basking in her touch. It was fascinating to her how much it clearly meant to him. How lonely had he been for so very long, with no one who cared? No one who was brave enough to get close. Or no one he let try.
“I’m not nearly tipsy enough,” she murmured to him. She’d need some liquid courage for what she was planning.
Chuckling, he let her back down onto her feet and gestured to a stone bench by the wall. The balustrade had railings, so it didn’t do much to cut off the view. She sat on it, smiling, and patted the spot next to her.
Silently, they sat there beside each other, passing the bottle of mead between them as they gazed up at the stars. “Are there other worlds out there?”
“I am certain there are. But while I have seen other worlds, and met visitors from them—I do not know if they live out in our stars, or somewhere else. Perhaps they are just a facsimile to fill the sky and keep this isle from being that much more bleak.” He took a sip from the bottle and passed it to her.
“Yeah, it’d be pretty sad to see a sky with no stars.”
“Almost as sad as it would be to only see clouds.”
There was something in his voice. It wasn’t disappointment. It was a softness she didn’t expect. Turning to look up at him, she was caught by the expression in his eyes.
It reflected something neither of them seemingly wanted to name. And likely for the same reason. Because tomorrow might spell the end. Why make the pain worse than it already would be?
But tonight was about them. Standing from the bench, she took his metal hand and wordlessly led him from the tower. She was learning the layout of the keep well enough that she could navigate it largely on her own. At least to the major landmarks.
She brought him to his room, neither of them saying anything.
When he closed the door behind him, it took seconds before he caught her lips with his, picking her up to even their height. Wrapping her legs around his waist to support herself as best she could, she met the embrace with a passion that surprised her.
He walked them to his bed and placed her down on her back, caging her in as he continued to devour her. After breaking the kiss, he straightened up, and she watched in awe as he stripped naked.
God, he was such a work of art. The way his muscles moved, the way the scars on his skin seemed to make him…she didn’t know. Human? Touchable? Reachable? The marks of a hundred battles. She supposed she had one of her own now—though she hadn’t really earned that. It had just kind of happened.
He knelt down on the bed, taking the hem of her chainmail top and pulling it off over her head. The skirt went next. When he leaned down to kiss her again, she put her hand in the center of his chest to stop him.
He paused, his brow furrowing. She sat up, urging him to lie down instead, then straddling his lap as he lay back on the sheets. A clawed hand settled on her ass as she leaned over him to kiss him once more, wanting to feel the slight scrape of his stubble and the firmness in his touch.
She had never been so bold in her life. And it felt incredible.
It was her turn to set the pace. And damn it all if she didn’t want to savor the sensation of him as she sank him deep into her. She had to rest her weight on his chest, her eyes sliding half-shut, lost in the moment.
It wasn’t about a physical need. Oh, there was that—she had a veritable demigod of a man beneath her. But she needed to feel connected to him. Needed to have him there, guiding her motions with the grasp of iron at her hips.
I love him.
It wasn’t even a question anymore. It was simply truth.
Mordred didn’t seem to want to rush the moment either. He lay there, gazing up at her almost in awe. As if she were something special—something precious.
When it all ended, she was in his arms as he kissed her. And she knew that was a place she never, ever wanted to leave.
Too bad that choice would probably be snatched away from her.
It was the middle of the night that she had the proof of her suspicion. There was a rough knock on the door that jerked them both awake.
