The Deathsinger: Book 2

Ch. 21: Dousing the Fire

Remiel's lips anchored me in a haven while Mara's fiery storm raged. Cool darkness cocooned us, further pushing away the nightmares. I'd been pulled between reality and nightmare for so long that it took me a moment to understand he was actually kissing me, and I was so overwhelmed by relief that I didn't respond.

But when he started to draw away, I jolted out of the daze and grabbed both sides of his face. Eyes locked on his, I counted every amber fleck glinting in the dark brown. Bits of burnished light I hadn't been able to see until now, and I tucked away the memory of how they seemed to blaze brighter when I pulled his lips back to mine.

His groan vibrated through me, and his grip on me tightened as if he was afraid I might run again. As long as he kissed me like this, I didn't think I was capable of anything else. I was at his mercy, greedy for every heated press of his skin against mine, and when his tongue whispered over my bottom lip, I sat up with a hiss, twisting in his arms so I could straddle his lap.

Remiel chuckled and took full advantage of the new position. One hand tangled in my hair and the other slid down the arch of my back, settling on the curve of my ass. His fingers kneaded the lush flesh there as I rocked into him, and with every stroke of my center over his hardness, a new fire grew inside of me. Within seconds, we were both panting against each other's mouths.

The part of me, still capable of rational thought, remained mostly quiet as Remiel's kisses moved away from my mouth, down my neck, and settled just above my breasts. There was no warning issued as his teeth sank into the charred material of my tunic and tugged it lower, exposing my nipple to the cool night air and his attentions.

Instead, I only felt amazement as his lips closed over the tight bud and pulled tight. Pleasure whipped through me, and I laced my fingers through his hair. A familiar pressure coiled low in my stomach. A pulsing knot so close to coming undone.

Only this time, there was no hint of embarrassment hanging over the experience. No sense that something wasn't quite right. Tievel's expert touch had brought me over the edge that night in the camp, and I'd thought it was something special. But now I knew it had been a means to an end. I had been lute strings plucked by a maestro. Technical perfection but no passion.

Unfortunately, thinking of Tievel caused me to tense, and Remiel, so in tune with my body, froze at once. Expression glazed, he blinked slowly as he lifted his head to look at me, and whatever he found in my gaze seemed to douse the lingering lust between us.

"F-fuck, Morana," he whispered, tugging my tunic up to cover my breasts and sliding me off his lap.

I shivered and wrapped my arms around my chest. Without his touch, the world felt frigid, but he wasn't the only one coming out of a daze. My cheeks blazed, and I looked everywhere but at him. What the hell had just happened?

"I am so sorry."

"You...um...it's fine," I spluttered, rising to shaking feet. He hovered beside me, his hands close enough to catch me if I stumbled.

Remiel shook his head, sending his dark hair fanning over his eyes. "I thought I was going to lose you to the nightmare again, and I panicked."

Of course. It had been a means to an end. One that had spiraled wildly out of control. Likely brought on by the magic and adrenaline. I said as much to him as we walked through the ghostly forest back to our camp.

"Sure." The neutral, almost flat tone to his voice left me colder than the winter wind.

My legs ached by the time we reached our camp, and the cold rays of the morning sun pricked the horizon. I had run at least a league, and much of that had been uphill. Remiel cleared his throat and picked up his bedroll, rolling it into a tight tube before stuffing it into the horse's saddlebag. The beast snorted and nuzzled his hand.