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I’m sorry, he offered, and squeezed her hand. After a beat he asked, So you’re really not going back to the Ocean Queen?
No. Not as her spy. I meant every word earlier. I serve no one.
Is it weird to say I’m proud of you? Because I am.
She huffed a laugh and interlaced their fingers, her thumb stroking over the back of his hand. I see you, Ruhn, she said gently. All of you.
The words were a gift. His chest tightened. He couldn’t stop himself from leaning across the space and quietly, so no one around them might hear, pressing his mouth to hers.
The kiss was gentle, near silent. He pulled away after a heartbeat, but her free hand slid to his cheek. Her eyes glowed golden, even in the moonlit dimness of the stables. When we’re not sleeping in a stable surrounded by people, she said, mind-voice low—a purr that curled around his cock and gripped tight—I want to touch you.
His cock hardened at that, aching. He shut his eyes, fighting it, but her lips brushed his, silently teasing.
I want to ride you, she whispered into his mind, and slipped her hand from his to palm him through his pants. Ruhn bit down on his lower lip to keep from groaning. Her fingers slid down the length of him. I want this inside of me. She dug the heel of her palm along him, and he stifled a moan. I want you inside of me.
Fuck yeah was all he could manage to say, to think.
Her laughter echoed in his mind, and her lips slid from his to find the spot beneath his ear. Her teeth grazed over his too-hot skin, and he writhed against the hand she still had on him, the crackling hay so gods-damned loud—
“Please don’t fuck right next to us,” Flynn muttered from a few feet away.
“Ugh,” Bryce called from across the stables. “Really?”
Ruhn squeezed his eyes shut, fighting his arousal.
But Lidia laughed quietly. “Sorry.”
“Pervs,” Declan muttered, hay crinkling as he turned over.
Ruhn looked back to Lidia and saw her smiling, delight and mischief brightening her face.
And damn if it wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
68
“You’re hovering.”
“Sorry, sorry.” Ithan paced the morgue that Hypaxia had swiftly converted into a lab. “I just don’t know what to do with myself while you’re working on all that science stuff.”
Hunched over the desk, Hypaxia was setting up the things she’d need to begin her experiments.
She said idly, without lifting her head, “I could use a sample of the parasite.”
He halted. “How?” He answered his own question. “Oh. A glass of water.” He glanced to the sink. “You think there are tons of them swimming around?”
“I doubt it’s that obvious, considering how many scientists and medwitches have studied our water over the years. But it must be in there somewhere, if we’re all infected.”
Ithan sighed and walked over to the sink, grabbing a mug that said Korinth University College of Mortuary Science. He filled it with water and plunked it down beside Hypaxia. “There. The Istros’s finest.”
“That mug could be contaminated,” Hypaxia said, using a ruler to sketch out a grid on a piece of paper. “We need a sterile container first. And samples from several different water sources.”
“Did I mention that I hate science?”
“Well, I love it,” Hypaxia said, still without looking up. “There are sterile cups in the cabinet along the back wall. Get multiple samples from this tap, from the Istros itself, and one from a bottle of store-bought water. We’ll need a wider sample base, but that’ll do for the initial phases.” Ithan gathered a bunch of the sterile containers and headed for the door.
He was a glorified water boy. He’d never hear the end of it from his sunball buddies. That is, if he ever talked to them again.
But Ithan said nothing before slipping out, and Hypaxia didn’t call after him.
