before it was all taken away from her. What she would have traded to make it so again. But soon enough, she turned her eyes from the fire, out into the storm. Watching the trees sway in the grip of the wind, the flashes of lightning clawing the ocean of black cloud above.
Black like his hands.
Like his eyes.
Hazel once …
“An empty room,” she muttered.
“What did you say, love?” Ash asked.
But Mia made no reply.
CHAPTER 19
QUIET
Bryn stood close enough to Wavewaker to feel the warmth of his body.
Wondering if she should step closer still.
She’d always had a fancy for him, truth told. Big hands and broad shoulders and a voice that just did things to her. But there was no opportunity for that kind of fraternization under the watchful eye of the executus in Remus Collegium, and the big Dweymeri seemed a little ambivalent to her anyways. So Bryn had always kept her feelings in a small room in the back of her skull, only letting them out when she was alone in her cell at nevernight and the desire to scratch the itch became too much to ignore.
But now …
… now they were free.
Free to do whatever they wanted.
The last two years fighting and bleeding on the sands had taught her how thin the thread holding them to this life was. The loss of her brother Byern was still a raw ache in her heart, and Bryn wondered if she’d ever truly feel whole again. But she knew only fools didn’t take their chances when they could, and here her chance was, standing right in front of her. Since Wavewaker’s revelation about “waiting for the right woman” earlier, the urge to tell him how sweet she thought he was burned in her chest. Too bright to ignore. Even if she wanted to.
And I don’t want to.
“Can’t see a damned thing in all this,” the big man muttered.
His big brown eyes were on the countryside around them. The woods and rocks were draped in a gray curtain of chill and driving rain. Crystal clear droplets rolled down his smooth, dark skin, dripped from his black saltlocks and beard. The intricate inkwerk on his cheeks seemed a puzzle for the solving.
“It’s a storm, all right,” she agreed.
Stupid, stupid.
Think of something clever to say, woman.
“Are you cold?” she asked hopefully.
Wavewaker shook his head, eyes still on the wash of gray. Lightning crackled across the skies above the crumbling tower, illuminating the swaying greenery below, the broken stonework, the creeping ruin. The light was bright as the suns for a moment, shadows marked in black, the whole world flashing in strobe.
Bryn stepped closer, laid a gentle touch on his arm.
“I’m cold,” she declared, in what she hoped was a sultry voice.
“You can head downstairs,”’Waker offered, turning to scan the ground to the south. “Smells like they’ve got the fire going. I can keep watch up here.”
Bryn’s eyebrows rose slowly toward her hairline. Wavewaker was utterly oblivious, looking out into the gloom and humming a soft tune in that oceans-deep baritone. She pressed her lips together, pouted in thought—or at least she tried to think. The vibration of those caramel-smooth tones in her loins wasn’t making it easy.
All right. This calls for a frontal assault.
“’Waker,” she sighed. “I don’t want to go downstairs.”
“… No?”
“No,” she said, placing her hand on her hip. “I want you to warm me up.”
The big man turned to look at her. His eyebrows drew together with glacial slowness.
“… Really?”
“Four Daughters!” she said in exasperation. “No wonder you never got your end away! Can I make this more obvious? Would grabbing you by your fucking ears and planting one on your dopey chops be of assistance in clarifying position?”
The big man gave her a shy smile. “I … suppose it wouldn’t hurt?”
She stared up at him a moment longer. Watching his eyes dance with mirth, his grin come out to play. And then she grabbed him by his breastplate, pushed herself up on tiptoes, and crushed her lips to his.
He was laughing at first, his barrel-broad chest heaving under her hands. But soon the laughter stopped, his lips softening against hers, his chest heaving for an entirely different reason. Bryn’s bow slipped from her fingers as she entwined her hands in his saltlocks, hauled herself up his body, and wrapped her legs around his waist. He pushed her back against the parapet, big strong hands beneath her arse, holding her up as if she were light as feathers. Bryn squeezed him