Page 11 of Tanglewood Magic (The Three Sisters 2)
All the tension bled from him on a sigh. “Forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive.”
His mouth pressed against hers then, lips gentle and warm, the edge of his beard soft against her chin. She’d never been kissed before. Not like this, anyway. She tipped her head and gave herself over to it. His tongue dipped between her lips, stroked along her tongue. She could feel that kiss all the way to her toes, but especially in the tips of her breasts and deep within her core.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him. She wanted him. Wanted more.
But he gently pushed her away, his breath coming in trembling pants.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Absolutely nothing,” he said. “There’s so much right about that kiss I’m surprised we haven’t both gone up in flames.”
She laughed. Her cheeks and ears grew hot.
“We’re both tired,” he said around a smile. “There will be other days, other kisses, other nights.”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Then let’s leave the door open for now and savor the view.”
She took a step back, her fingers trailing from his. “I like that idea.”
“I should escort you home. You don’t have your broom. You’ll have to walk.”
She bit her lip and shook her head. “My cottage is close. I need some cool night air anyway.”
He winked. “Tomorrow, Circe.”
“Tomorrow.”
She slipped out the door into the night.
ChapterSix
“Where is my queen? I have news.”
Rhys stared across the counter at Zelaria. He’d always thought the witch reminded him of a dead tree come to life. She wasn’t old by any means. Under fifty, he estimated. But her skin was sallow and weathered, and her hair fell in frizzy coils to her shoulders.
Years ago, he’d thought she could have been beautiful. Could have been. But any beauty the Fates had given her was wasted on her. She rarely smiled, and when she did, as she was doing now, there was no warmth to it.
“She’s in the infirmary. Tavyss is in there with her. I’ll show you back.” He started in Medea’s direction, but Zelaria held up a hand. “No need.”
She strode past him, her staff tapping the floor between every step. Power radiated off that staff. Unquestionable power. And just like with her smile, Rhys thought there was no warmth in her magic, no heart. Maybe that was why the Fates had not chosen her to be queen as they all had expected when Ferula died.
“How are you feeling, my queen?” Zelaria asked, her brow furrowed with worry. Rhys had to stop himself from pursing his lips. She hadn’t even sent a falcon last night. It was hard for him to reconcile that with the dramatic amount of worry Zelaria was showing at the moment.
“Better, thanks to Rhys.” Medea held out her hand to him, and he took it, despite Tavyss growling softly at the contact. The dragon cleared his throat to hide his aggression.
“I must give credit where it’s due. Your sister Circe was key in developing the antidote earlier this week. She’s a brilliant alchemist and potion maker. The most talented witch I’ve ever known.”
The muscles in Zelaria’s face tightened. “Well, you can’t have known many, Rhys.” She laughed as if her words were a joke, but Rhys could hear the bitter jealousy in them.
“Where is my sister?” Medea asked.
“Home. She’s due in later this morning.” Rhys rested his hands in his pockets and thought about the night before, about the kiss. Had she dreamed of him the way he’d dreamed of her?
“Now, I must deliver the news, Medea,” Zelaria said urgently. “We found the person who poisoned you.”
