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She threw her head back, her voice trembling as his name left her lips.
With a final flick of his tongue, his fingers grazed over her stomach like a whisper, settling at the apex of her thighs. Her heartbeat sped up.
He traced a slow, deliberate journey back up her curves. “You’re not leaving the city.”
The desire to have him inside of her was maddening.
She spread her legs, leaving deep imprints of her fingernails on the backs of his shoulders. “Ronin, I don’t want you to get hurt?—”
He pushed inside of her.
A low moan slipped out of her.
His mouth came to rest by her ear, his breath thick. Slowly, he pulled out to the tip. “I want you here.”
He pushed back into her, setting his thrusts to a languid rhythm. “By my side.”
The world shrank away and everything in it until it was only the two of them.
She lifted her hips to coax him in further, craving more than their bodies would allow, twisting and working herself against him.
Ronin seemed to understand her silent request and sat up. He pulled her into his lap and drove further inside of her. The heat in her belly wound tighter. She bit back her bottom lip, bracing the tops of his shoulders.
Her mind was fuzzy as she tried to focus on what he’d said. “Why?” The word left her mouth breathlessly.
His palm flattened in the middle of her back. The other tangled in her hair to hold her exactly where he wanted her. He thrusted deeper.
“You are the only goddess I worship, Naia.”
She came undone in his arms.
A peaceful silence filled the room. Naia lay with her head on Ronin’s chest, tracing his tattoo over his left pec. It was the portrait of the woman. She hadn’t asked, but she presumed she had been right about it being the Blood Heretics’ insignia.
She listened to the strong rhythm of his heartbeat. The way blood coursed through the chambers of his heart was as beautiful as any melody she’d ever heard, while also serving as a reminder of his fragility.
Anxiety struck through her like a gong and her mind unraveled, envisioning the myriad of gruesome, bloody dangers awaiting him should she choose to stay in the city.
Marina.
Naia glanced up at his sleeping face. She resisted the urge to trace the delicate lines around his eyes, the ones that formed when he genuinely smiled, a rarity accompanied by laughter.
Those smiled were her favorite, because they always reached his eyes, turning them into waning crescent moons that made her chest melt like honey.
“The mortal you loved before…” Ronin said, his eyes still closed. She hadn’t realized he was awake. “How did he die?”
She pressed the corner of her mouth into his shoulder to hide her frown. As if he could feel it, his arm curled around her waist a little tighter.
She rarely spoke of Kaleo, much less thought of him. It revived an ache so strong, it felt like being engulfed in a tsunami of excruciating pain.
“He was murdered,” Naia whispered. “It is why I believe it is best if I leave Hollow City—without you.”
“I can’t be killed by a god.”
Naia looked up at him, her pulse quickening with a glimmer of hope.
“The High Goddess of Fate won’t allow it. A male and female must exist to preserve the Himura clan bloodline. It’s the law of nature, or some archaic bullshit. My mother said it was what saved our clan from being wiped out during the massacre.”
It was sensible, but Naia still questioned its authenticity. “Did you hear it from the High Goddess herself?”
