“I know,” is all I say.
“And I wasn’t trying to push you away this morning in the library,” he adds. “I only wanted you to know that I don’t expect you to go any further than this.”
“I know that too.”
He takes my hand, and after a weighted moment, presses a kiss to my palm. With a question in his eyes, he stares at me, his mouth lingering and so warm as he slowly presses kisses down my wrist.
My body comes alive when he touches me, but when his lips are on my skin, I feel as though the universe moves through me. It’s divine. Better than calling down the moon.
But I can’t bear it.
I jerk away, my heart pounding out a frantic rhythm. I bite my lip and lie for reasons I cannot completely discern, even as tears well in my eyes.
“I do not want this,” I sign, and I don’t. I want him, but I don’t want to risk my heart more pain. “Wherever we go from here, it must be as friends and fellow fighters. Nothing more.”
He stands before me frozen, but his eyes glisten, making my heart hurt.
“Neither of us asked for this,” he says, his stare intent. “Neither of us expected to find ourselves fighting desire at every turn. Yet I’ve battled my want of you since that night in your village.” He leans closer, so close I smell the lavender soap on his skin. He touches his mouth to my ear. “You can call me friend a thousand times, Raina, but I know you feel this.”
This. This heat. This yearning. This longing.
Destroying me from the inside.
He pulls away and grazes the backs of his fingers along my cheek, drifts the ghost of a touch down my neck and across my shoulder. An involuntary shiver chases through my bones, and my breasts tighten.
“Tell me again that I am no more than a friend.” He trails his touch down the front of my robe, stopping over my restless heart. “Tell me that I am just the Witch Collector, and I’ll walk you back to your room and never mention what I feel for you ever again.”
My hands are fisted at my sides. I unfurl my fingers, intent on forming more lies, but I can do nothing less than touch him. I clutch his tunic, feeling like I can’t breathe, uncertain about what comes next.
Alexus settles his hands at my waist and draws me against him, making me dizzy with want.
“What are you scared of?” he asks, his voice so soft. “What is it you fear when it comes to me?”
I look up at him, and a thousand answers chase through my mind. The truth boils down to one thing, though, a truth I can’t hold inside anymore.
“That I will never let myself know what it is to be yours. That I will deny myself this. Deny myself you. Out of fear.” I pat his chest before continuing. “Because I am so scared of losing anyone else.”
Alexus gives me the sweetest look, his expression tender. He slips his hand beneath my hair, across the back of my neck, tilting my head up, his thumb caressing my cheek.
“That’s what you want?” He leans in, his breath warm against my mouth. “To know what it is to be mine?”
I close my eyes and clench my teeth, nodding, finding steadiness in his hold and against the solidity of his body as he flutters kisses across my jaw.
He takes my chin in his hand. “Will you let me show you?”
In answer, I nod and press my body against his.
“Protection?” he whispers. “I’ve taken nothing. I didn’t know that I would have the need.”
I nod once more. I drink a tonic made by Mena every full moon, as do many villagers of a certain age, people of all stripes. The last thing I need in my life right now is a child.
With a look of relief, Alexus brings his mouth down and touches his lips to mine. At first, his kiss is gentle and attentive, but soon it becomes wholly penetrating, his tongue stroking mine with fluid grace and startling precision. He takes his time, mapping out every curve like he’s committing this moment—and me—to memory.
There’s a pause, a split second when I feel him smile, and I sense overwhelming joy radiating from his being. I smile, too, and shift my hips against him as I run my hands up his back, craving his touch, the feel of his naked skin on mine.
He groans and deepens the kiss, sliding his hands into my hair, holding me in place. His grip is gentle but firm as he claims me with his lips, his skillful tongue granting assurance as to what’s to come.
Gods, I feel so much in this kiss. It’s exhilarating and makes my knees weak, but at the same time, there’s so much affection and care in this man, in the way he kisses and touches, so much promise that the woman who will leave this room will not be the same woman who entered.
His need for me presses against my stomach. Unable to wait another second, I trace my hands beneath his tunic and break our kiss just long enough to pull the garment over his head and discard it on the rugs beneath our feet. His body is so beautiful—so sculpted and powerful—that I couldn’t look away if the moon fell from the sky.
I dance my fingertips along every bronzed curve, cut, and rune, exploring not only with my hands but also with my mouth. His nipples harden when I flick my tongue over them, but when I kiss the skin beneath the new rune on his chest, he moans and rakes his fingers roughly through my hair, holding on as though he might float away if I stop.
He slips his hand down and twists the sash at my waist, giving it a tug. “Off.”
A breath catches in my throat, and I nod my permission. In a beat of my pounding heart, the robe lies in a blue velvet pool at my feet.
Alexus kicks off his boots and peels off his leathers, leaving him standing on the most beautiful long, strong legs I’ve ever seen, wearing nothing but a thin pair of braies that hide nothing of his desire.
He comes for me, kissing me, curving his warm hands around my ribs. A moment later, he cups my breasts, kneading, teasing, and caressing.
“You feel so right in my hands,” he whispers, kissing my mouth again before ducking his head low. Through the thin fabric of my shift, he drags his teeth achingly slow over my nipples, biting just hard enough to take my breath. With a delicate touch, I drag my fingernails down his back and draw him closer.
There is no love without fear.
I can’t call this love—not yet—but I have to wonder if it could become something extraordinary. Eventually. I’ll never know if I let this night pass me by.
Something comes over me, the same something that guided me in the wood—in the refuge. I give in and push Alexus toward the bed. Eyes holding mine, he sits and pulls me onto his lap, his hands sliding up my thighs, over my naked hips, gripping me, heating my flesh everywhere he touches.
I want more. I want this. I want him.
I want to finish what we started days ago.