Page 47 of Blood Singer

"Thank you," I said as the castle came into view through the trees. "For today. For showing me your world."

"Thank you for wanting to see it," he said. "For seeing my people as people, not just political complications."

We entered the castle through the same gate we'd left by, and Kavan walked me back to my quarters. The corridors were quiet at this hour, most people occupied with their duties, and I was grateful for the privacy.

When we reached my door, I turned to face him, and all the words I'd been forming simply disappeared. He was standing so close, and he smelled like leather and pine and something uniquely his own. All I could think about was how much I wanted to kiss him.

So I did.

I rose onto my toes and pressed my lips to his. Brief and soft, but full of everything I was feeling. Gratitude and desire and the terrifying realization that I was falling for him harder than I'd ever fallen for anyone.

For a moment, he went completely still. I felt the tension coil through him, felt his hands tighten fractionally at my waist like he was holding himself back from something. His breath came unsteady against my mouth, and I realized he was fighting for control.

So I kissed him again, deeper this time, and felt the exact moment his restraint began to crack.

His hands slid up my back, pulling me closer but still controlled, still measured. I could feel the effort it cost him, the way his muscles trembled slightly with the strain of holding back. His mouth moved against mine, like he was afraid if he let go even a fraction, he'd lose himself entirely.

I didn't want him careful. I wanted him the way he'd been in the alcove, desperate and real and completely undone.

I threaded my fingers through his hair and tilted my head to deepen the kiss, and that was all it took. Something inside him snapped.

His hands came up to cup my face, and suddenly the kiss wasn't gentle anymore. It was hungry and intense, his mouth moving against mine with a raw need that made my pulse stutter. He tasted like sweet cakes and something uniquely him, and I found myself pressing closer, wanting more of this, more of him. His tongue traced the seam of my lips and I opened for him, and the kiss became something else entirely. Something that felt like a claim and a confession all at once.

Heat pooled low in my belly. My hands gripped his shoulders, feeling the hard muscle beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, and I wanted to tear it away, wanted to feel his skin against mine. He made a rough sound against my mouth, something between a groan and a growl, and his hands slid down to grip my hips, pulling me against him until there was no space left between us.

The kiss deepened further, became almost frantic. His teeth caught my lower lip gently and I gasped, and he took advantage of it, kissing me like he was trying to memorize the taste of me. Like he was afraid if he stopped, I'd disappear.

Then, abruptly, he pulled back.

His forehead rested against mine, both of us breathing hard. His hands were still on my hips, but his grip had loosened slightly, like he was forcing himself to maintain some distance. I could feel his pulse racing where his chest pressed against mine, could feel the tremor in his hands.

"Leila," he said, his voice rough and strained. "If you don't go inside right now, I'm not going to be able to stop myself from taking you against this door."

I pulled back just enough to look at him. His eyes were dark with want, his white hair slightly disheveled from my fingers, his mouth still wet from our kiss. He looked like he was barely holding on by a thread.

"Maybe I don't want you to stop," I whispered.

He closed his eyes like the words physically pained him. "You deserve better than a hallway. Better than me losing control like some untrained youngling." He took a shaky breath and stepped back, creating space between us even though every line of his body screamed that he didn't want to. "Go. Before I change my mind."

I wanted to argue. Wanted to pull him back and finish what we'd started. But I could see the effort it was costing him to maintain this distance, and I understood that this restraint, this choice to wait, meant something.

"Thank you," I said again, breathless as I moved toward the door. "For today. For everything."

"Have dinner with me," he said suddenly. "Tonight. Just the two of us. In my quarters."

My pulse stuttered. A private dinner in his quarters. The implications were clear, and I should probably think it through. Consider all the reasons why this was complicated and potentially problematic.

But I didn't want to think. I wanted to feel. I wanted to follow this pull between us and see where it led.

"What time?" I asked.

"After sunset," he said. "I'll send someone to escort you."

"I'll be there," I promised.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead, gentle and reverent, then stepped back. "Until tonight, then."

"Until tonight," I echoed.