Road To Fire (Broken Crown Trilogy #1) - Maria Luis Page 0,139
not touching. “No one owns the king killer.”
On instinct, I retreat. From his touch, from that label that feels like less of a compliment and more like a noose around my neck. A noose I placed upon myself, but a noose, nonetheless. “Please . . . please don’t call me that.”
His palm skates under the curve of my jaw, lifting. “Look at me, Isla.”
Feeling more vulnerable than I’d like to admit, I do as he says.
An answering smile hitches the corner of his mouth. And then his palm smooths north until he’s tucking a lock of blond hair behind my ear. “You told me once that we all bear scars. Mine exist for all to see, and yours . . . Yours you keep buried inside your heart.”
Right now, my heart is beating in overdrive. From his closeness, from the tangible warmth in his husky baritone.
“I see you, Isla Quinn,” he tells me, letting his big hand fold over the back of my neck. Gentle. Affectionate. His Adam’s apple bobs with a tight swallow. “I see all of you. Your strength and your bravery, your hard-headedness and your grit.”
“Saxon,” I start, but he quickly shakes his head.
“Let me get this out—please.”
Rubbing my dry lips together, I stare up at him. Give a small nod for him to continue.
“You are the king killer, Isla. But you’re also the woman who sheltered your siblings after your parents died, and the woman who took a position to give our fellow countrymen the truth. You take risks because you rely on your gut. Right from wrong, good versus evil. For my whole life, I’ve done the opposite. I stick to what I know—I fucking burrow myself in the familiar—because it’s what I can control and manipulate and put an end to, should I want.” His thumb grazes down the length of my throat, so softly that his touch feels like nothing more than a kiss from the breeze. “Seeing you is like learning to look at the world through a brand-new lens.”
Feeling the flutter of my pulse, I reach up and place my hand over his. “You risked a lot by saving me. We were on two sides of this war, you said.”
As if embarrassed by the praise, his dark lashes lower over his pale eyes. “I did it without thought.”
“On the night of the riot?”
His hand flexes against my flesh as he confesses, “I had you in my arms before I even knew it. You fit. Christ, you fit there, against my chest, in a way that every part of me rebelled. But still I carried you. Still.”
My throat tightens with emotion. “What of The Octagon?”
“I would do it all over again, just to have you next to me now.”
“And . . . and about what happened at The Bell & Hand? D-Did you react without thought then, too?”
Tension seeps into his frame, and then his hand is lowering to my spine, between my shoulder blades where the bullet from Jack’s gun exited. He stays just like that, linking us together, his palm lingering over the dressing covering my wound. Our breathing is rhythmic, completely in sync, the rise and fall of my chest dictating when he inhales.
“Saxon?” I prompt on a whisper.
His unholy eyes meet mine. “I’ve chased Death for years, sweetheart. Doled it out like it was my right. Killing Jack was not enough. I almost lost you. I almost lost years with you, and I—Christ.” As if unable to stop himself, he drags me closer, until my legs are straddling his and my knees are buried in the soft grass. He tucks his face into the crook of my neck. Levels my flesh with a soft, agonizing press of his lips. “I’ve been a wreck without you. I didn’t know if you were alive or dead or still in that fucking hospital bed.”
Pressed so close to him, my skin turns to fire.
I sink my fingers into his thick hair, scraping my nails over his skull to soothe the rigid fear from his body. And then I press my mouth to the shell of his ear, and murmur, “Holyrood owns me because life without you wouldn’t be much of a life at all.” When he stiffens, imperceptibly, I settle myself more firmly in his lap. “You sent me that message like it was a good-bye. You gave me the money and the car and a house in the middle of Oxford like those were the only pieces of you I’d ever