Smolder (Crown of Fae #3) - Sharon Ashwood Page 0,20

thinking, without regard for rank or courtesy—or the mad fury she’d seen at the banquet. Though Morran’s expression was carefully blank, she could still see the tension around his eyes. Her knees trembled, wondering what would come next.

It wasn’t what she expected.

“Do you hope I might save your wayward brother?”

“Yes.” Surprise robbed the word of strength.

His face changed for an instant, giving her a glimpse of a different Morran—one who was wry, wise, and sympathetic. “Have you come to save me in return?”

Leena’s breath stopped. She hadn’t imagined it was a possibility.

“You need someone with more skill than me,” she replied, her voice thick with regret.

He nodded, not meeting her eyes.

The Mother prophesied his death, Leena thought. Her gut twisted. Morran was unpredictable, dangerous. He was also a victim.

“But I’ll try.” Giddiness swept her, as if she’d stepped off a cliff.

“You’re speaking the truth.” It wasn’t a question.

“I am.”

Instinct made her reach out. She brushed her fingertips against the dark indigo of his sleeve. He didn’t withdraw, but he was gone again, fallen back into that careful blankness. All that was left was the cool-eyed prince she’d seen at Juradoc’s side.

Had she revealed too much? Had she been tricked?

Then he released his hands from behind his back, raising the arm she touched. Without warning, his long fingers traced the line of her cheek, gently and with a connoisseur’s precision. Leena froze in place. His hand was warm, calloused by the sword, but as elegantly formed as any fae’s. He repeated the gesture, cupping her chin in his palm. His touch was considering, as if she were an artwork he wished to study, though with one word or look, it could become a lover’s exploration.

“As I said before,” he murmured, “you have power, Leena of the Flame.”

His gaze said a thousand things more.

Temple dancers—both male and female—received their share of attention, but she wasn’t prepared for this side of the Phoenix Prince. The urge to run was strong.

But then he leaned in, almost magically drawing her to him at the same time. Leena had no intention of moving, but found she’d risen on her toes so that her lips met his. She leaned in for balance. The sudden intimacy seemed the most natural thing in the world.

Do I want this? she wondered, but the thought didn’t survive long. This was a matter of heart and blood, not of the mind.

His were not the soft lips of a youth. They were firm, almost hard, and there was no hesitation. This was the kiss of a man who knew how to offer himself to a mate. He nipped at the corner of her mouth, then the fullness of her lower lip. Deep in her belly, the Flame stirred, sending sparks of pleasure through every limb.

Leena tilted her head, seeking a better angle. She’d dallied with the young swains of Eldaban, but this was a warrior in his prime. The Flame approved her choice with a surge of heat in her core. Her tongue sought entrance to his mouth. It found an answering warmth as he deepened the kiss, taking what she allowed.

Her cloak fell to the floor. A moment later, his hands found her waist, tracing the curve of her spine and hip. In response, her fingers gripped the fabric of his tunic, wanting to tear it from his body. At the last instant, reason fumbled for some wisp of control.

She broke the kiss, pushing him away until she could see his face. The softer Morran she’d glimpsed a moment ago was back, a sly smile on his lips. It was the look of someone who knew they’d hit the mark. It slid away in seconds, but not before she understood she was one of the things he desired—and meant to have.

But for how long? Morran was no Kelthian shepherd boy begging for her favor. No, the moment he was whole, he’d slip through her fingers like the desert sand.

A phoenix rose from the ashes to fly free. It did not sing sweet songs from a cage.

Leena stepped away from Morran, welcoming the space between them. She could give him her strength as an ally and her compassion as a healer, but that was all.

Her heart wasn’t part of their bargain.

7

The camp mobilized, pushing Leena’s scheme past the point of no return.

Morran ordered that she be assigned a small wagon to herself. While there were no other living occupants, the inside was piled with sacks of grain, reducing the available space by half.