Sweep of the Blade (Innkeeper Chronicles #4) - Ilona Andrews Page 0,93
hands. They hit it at the same time. She sank her blade as deep as it would go in its remaining eye, while he crushed its skull with repeated blows.
They stared at each other, both bloody.
Helen hugged Maud’s leg, her lip trembling. Arland slid off the dragon’s ruined head and clamped them to him.
His voice came out strained. “I thought I lost you both.”
Maud raised her head and kissed him, blood and all, not caring who was watching or what they thought.
18
Maud knocked on the door separating Arland’s quarters from the passageway leading to her rooms. Yesterday she would have hesitated. Today she didn’t even pause.
The door swung open. Arland stood on the other side, barefoot and out of armor, wearing a black shirt over loose black pants. His hair was damp, and he’d pulled it back into a loose ponytail. He must’ve just stepped out of the shower. The afternoon had turned into evening, and the light of the sunset tinted the room behind him with purple, red, and deep turquoise.
His gaze snagged on her. She was wearing a white robe of fonari spider silk, its fabric so thin and light, she barely felt it. The wide sleeves fell over her arms like a cloud. She’d cinched the robe at the waist with the belt, but it was cut so wide that the voluminous skirt swept the ground behind her, the gossamer silk swirling at the slightest breeze. When the light caught it just right, it shimmered, nearly translucent.
The robe was a Christmas gift from Dina. Her sister had handed her the gift, smiled, and walked away, giving Maud her privacy. Maud had opened the gilded box and stared. At the time it seemed like an unbelievable luxury. On Karhari it would have paid for a year of water for her and Helen.
She’d touched the robe, feeling the delicate fabric, and it stirred something inside her, something gentle and fragile she had hidden deep within her soul to survive, the part of her that loved beautiful clothes, and flowers, and long soaks in the bath. Something she’d thought she lost forever that first night on Karhari, when she cut off her hair and sat alone on the floor among the dark locks and cried. Now, that part came awake and it hurt, and she’d cried again from pain and relief.
She wished so much she’d had her hair now.
Arland opened his mouth.
Nothing came out. He just looked at her. An exhilarating flash of female satisfaction surged through her.
Silence stretched.
“Arland?”
He closed his mouth and opened it again. “How is Helen?”
“Very tired. We washed all of the blood off and she fell asleep.”
“Understandable. She was fighting for her life.” His voice trailed off.
“Arland?”
“Yes?”
“Can I come in?”
He blinked and stepped aside. “Apparently, I lost my manners somewhere on the hunt. My deepest apologies.”
She swept past him into the room.
He shut the door and turned to her. “Have you sustained any inju—”
She put her arms around his neck and stood on her toes. Her lips met his, and he held very still.
Does he not want me?
Arland’s arms closed around her. He spun her, and her back pressed into the door. His rough fingers slid along her cheek, caressing her skin. She looked into his blue eyes and caught her breath. His eyes were hot with lust, need, and hunger, all swirled together and sharpened with a hint of predatory anticipation.
His lips trembled in the beginning of a growl. He smiled wide, showing his fangs, and lowered his mouth to hers. Her instincts screamed in panic, not sure if she was mate or prey, but she had waited so long for this and she met him halfway.
They came together like two clashing blades. His mouth sealed on hers and she opened for him, desperate to connect, to feel him, to taste…His tongue glided over hers. He tasted of mint and warm spice. His fangs rasped against her lip.
Her head swam. She felt light, and strong, and wanted…
He kissed her deeper, his big body bracing hers. She nipped his lip. A snarl rumbled deep in his throat, the sound a predatory warning, or maybe a purr, she wasn’t sure. He kissed the corner of her mouth, her lips, her chin, her neck, painting a line of heat and desire on her skin. She was shaking with need now.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he groaned.
“So have I.”
“Why now?”
He was kissing her neck again, each touch of his lips a burst of pleasure. She could barely think,