The Beauty of Darkness (The Remnant Chronicles #3) - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,178

a crease deepening between his brows.

“I know you don’t plan to marry,” I blurted out. “Tavish told me.” My eyes stung. It was too late to hold the rest back. “I don’t want to be alone tonight Rafe.”

His lips parted, his eyes glassy. A storm raged behind them.

I knew I had made a terrible mistake. “I shouldn’t have—”

He stepped closer, his hands slamming against the door behind me, caging me between his arms; his face, his lips inches from mine, and all I could see, all I could feel, was Rafe, his eyes broken, glistening, and the strain behind them.

He leaned closer, his breaths labored and hot against my cheek. “There isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t wish I could steal back a few hours,” he whispered. “When I don’t wish I could steal back the taste of your mouth on mine, the feel of your hair twisted between my fingers, the feel of your body pressed to mine. When I don’t wish I could see you laughing and smiling like when we were back in Terravin.”

His hand slid behind me and pulled my hips to his, his voice husky, his lips brushing my earlobe. “A day never passes when I don’t wish I could steal back an hour in the watchtower again, when I was kissing you and holding you and”—his breath shuddered against my ear—“and I was wishing tomorrow would never come. When I still believed that kingdoms couldn’t come between us.” He swallowed. “When I wished you had never heard of Venda.”

He leaned back, the misery in his eyes cutting through me. “But they’re only wishes Lia, because you’ve made promises and so have I. Tomorrow will come, and tomorrow will matter, to your kingdom and to mine. So please, don’t ask me again if I wish for something, because I don’t want to be reminded that every day I wish for something I cannot have.”

We stared at each other.

The air prickled hot between us.

I didn’t breathe.

He didn’t move.

We made promises to each other too, I wanted to say, but instead I only whispered, “I’m sorry, Rafe. We should say good night and forget—”

And then his lips were on mine, his mouth hungry, my back pressed to the door, his hand reaching behind me to open it, and we stumbled back into the room, the world disappearing behind us. He lifted me up in his arms, his gaze filling every empty space inside me, and then I slid through his hands, my mouth meeting his again. Our kisses were desperate, consuming, all that mattered and all there was.

My feet touched the ground, and then so did our belts, weapons, and vests falling in a trail across the floor. We stopped, faced each other, fear beating between us, fear that none of this was real, that even these precious few hours would be ripped away. The world flickered, pulling us into protective darkness, and I was in his arms again, our palms damp, searching, no lies, no kingdoms, nothing between us but our skin, his voice warm, fluid, like a golden sun unfolding every tight thing within me, I love you, I will love you forever, no matter what happens. Rafe needing me as much as I needed him, his lips silky, sliding down my neck, my chest, my skin shivering and burning at once. There were no questions, no pauses, no room left for anything more to be stolen. There was only us, and everything we had ever been to each other, the days and weeks when only we mattered, our fingers lacing together, holding, fierce, his gaze penetrating mine, and then fear and desperation faded, our movement slowed, and we memorized, lingered, touched, swallowing tears that still swelled in us, the reality setting in—we had only a few hours. He hovered over me, the flame of the fire lighting his eyes, the world stretching thin, disappearing, his tongue sweet and slow and gentle on mine, and then more urgent, pressing, hungry, the moment becoming the promise of a lifetime, a feverish need and rhythm pulsing between us, our skin moist and searing, and then the shudder of his breath in my ear, and finally, my name on his lips. Lia.

* * *

We lay in the darkness, my cheek on his chest. I felt his heartbeat, his breaths, his worries, his warmth. His fingers absently grazed lines down my arm. We talked like we used to, not about lists and supplies but what weighed