Page 106 of Fate's Wicked Oath

Finished with his meal, Faren rested his arm along the back of the bench again, adjusting his seat so that my shoulder fit neatly against his chest. “No experience with you could ever qualify as the worst.”

“Faren…” I admonished again, but I didn’t move away.

“What, I can’t compliment you?”

“Do you not recall our argument in Waldron?”

“Was it an argument?”

I lifted my chin, our faces mere inches apart as I met his gaze. “Wasn’t it?”

“An argument suggests we’re on differing sides of a conflict,” Faren said, “but I’ve recently become convinced that we’re on the same side.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhmm,” he hummed, nodding, insistent. “I think we both dislike the constraints of our circumstances. Do we not?”

He waited for my answer, seconds ticking by until I finally relented. “We do.”

“I’ve been thinking about what you said, about what weshouldn’tdo,” he went on, a gentle teasing entering his tone. “I’ve decided it’s stupid and I disagree.”

My lips kicked up in a half smile. “I thought we were on thesameside.”

“Oh, you disagree with what you said, too.”

“How would you know?”

Faren tilted his head, his temple grazing mine, lips meeting the curve of my ear. Goosebumps rose along my neck as his voice dropped to a rumble. “Because I know.” He drew back enough to look me in the eye, and his smile turned wicked. “More to the point: there’s something about this inn that makes me feel like the world can’t touch us.”

His arm across my back. My shoulder overlapping with his chest. My thigh pressing into his. Everywhere we touched, I burned. “Me, too,” I rasped.

“I would very much like to take advantage of the feeling,” he admitted. “Have you thought any more about that room?”

“I have.”

“And?”

“It’s still a bad idea.”

He chuckled and slid his hand across my shoulder, dragging my wet hair off my neck. My magic rushed to the contact, sensing every crease and callous on his palm. He cupped my nape, giving rise to another wave of goosebumps.

“I wasn’t asking if it’s a bad idea,” Faren murmured. “I was asking what you wanted.”

I glanced away, out at the pub, knowing that there was no lying to him when he could feel my body’s response so plainly. “It doesn’t matter what I want.”

“It matters to me.”

“Yes, well, it shouldn’t.”

“I’ll tell you what,” he drawled. “I’m going to purchase us a room—one room. I will sleep on the floor if you want me to, but I’d prefer not to let you out of my sight.”

“Afraid I’ll run off before I’ve delivered you safely back to the capital?”

“No,” he said, sounding amused. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to sleep without you near.”

“Is the Mighty Knight afraid of the dark?”

“In a way,” he said. “This whole journey has led me to feel as if I am in the dark.”