Blackbird Broken (The Witch King's Crown #2) - Keri Arthur Page 0,37

through life with your heart locked up. It’s not healthy.”

“When I’m working it is.”

“And when you’re not?”

Amusement tugged at his lips, chasing the lingering wisps of hurt and guilt from his eyes. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”

“Trust me, this is restrained. Remember who my grandmother is.” I let my fingers drift to his lips. He didn’t say anything, didn’t respond, but his eyes burned with heat. “But unless you’re willing to risk that heart of yours, this will be the full extent of our flirtation, and certainly all I’m willing to offer.”

His arm tightened around my waist and tugged me closer. Despite the layers of blankets between us, his erection was very evident. And lord, he was big. “Does flirtation involve kissing?”

I tried to get a grip on suddenly giddy hormones. “No.”

“I’m owed one, you know.”

“Are you just?”

“Remember the cave?”

“How could I forget?” Not only had we somehow managed to survive a tunnel collapse, but we’d also done so with the Witch King’s crown still in our possession. It was now in the hands of the Lady of Lake. If it wasn’t safe with her, then it wouldn’t be safe with anyone.

“Then you’ll remember our celebratory kiss was interrupted by the arrival of evildoers.”

“So it was. And?”

“And, I doubt we’ll face any such interruptions for the next few minutes. I aim to claim my kiss.”

“I wouldn’t bet on not being interrupted. There’s a five-year-old in the next bedroom, remember.” Amusement tugged at my lips. “And to quote your own statement, it would be utter lunacy to think either of us will stop at—”

The rest of the sentence was cut off as his lips claimed mine. There was absolutely nothing sweet about this kiss; it was all heat, hunger, and passion, and it made my soul sing and my heart soar. This was a kiss filled with the weight of centuries, even if it was very much of the moment.

And, oh, what a moment.

With our bodies crushed so close, I couldn’t help but be intensely aware of every part of him, from the rapid rise and fall of his chest to the heated hardness pressing against my lower stomach. I wanted to explore his muscular splendor with hands and tongue. Wanted to kiss my way along the happy trail of hair that started at his belly button and disappeared under the blankets still covering his hips. Wanted to caress the long, wondrous length of him.

But I didn’t caress him, and nor he me. Our connection was one of lips and soul only.

By the time he pulled away, sweat dotted my skin, my heart raced, and my body ached with need. But at least I wasn’t alone in any of that.

A rueful smile touched his glorious lips. “That wasn’t the wisest thing I’ve ever done. Not if distance is to be maintained.”

“Not my problem—”

“Oh,” he said, eyes glinting wickedly, “I think it is.”

I snorted softly, but any reply I might have made was cut off by a soft squeal that came from the room next door. Riona …

I flung the blankets off and grabbed my T-shirt, pulling it on as I bolted next door. A quick look around her room didn’t reveal an immediate threat, but she twisted from side to side and punched wildly at the air. It looked for all the world like she was fighting something—or someone—off.

I sat on the side of her bed and gently touched her forehead. It was sweaty, suggesting she’d been fighting her dream battle for a while.

“Riona?” I leaned back to avoid one flying fist. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

She continued flailing for several seconds and then her eyes popped open. Confusion and fear shone from her bright eyes. “Gwen?”

“Yes, and you’re safe, Riona. No one will harm you while Luc and I are here.”

“But he was here. He was in my mind.”

I frowned and brushed the sweaty strands of hair out of her eyes. “Who was in your mind?”

“The gray man.”

My stomach flip-flopped, and it was all I could to keep my voice calm. “And does the gray man have a name?”

She nodded and dragged the blankets closer to her nose as if to fend him off again. When she finally answered, it was in a fear-filled whisper.

“His name is Winter.”

Chapter Six

A thick fist of fear replaced the flip-flopping. If Winter had been in contact with this little girl, then we were in all sorts of trouble.

“What did Winter want?” My voice, I was relieved to hear, held no hint of