Page 64 of Stolen Threadwitch Bride
With that, he rolled onto his back and offered me the crook between his arm and body. I tucked against him, head on his shoulder.
The new moon blotted out a circle of black in the sky, but…
A low breath fell from me, barely getting past the lump forming in my throat. With it so dark, the stars glittered all the brighter, their subtle colours winking silver and white, blue, violet, and gold. A belt of a million flecks of starlight cleaved the sky in two as though someone had flicked paint onto the night’s canvas.
So many stars. So many possibilities. Such a vast expanse stretching on and on overhead.
I was a tiny mote of insignificance against that.
Did my actions matter? Could they really have that great an impact on anything? Could Ly’s? Could anyone’s?
This entire world could vanish or explode tomorrow and it wouldn’t make the slightest difference to the stars. They would endure.
Every knotted muscle in my body eased, and I smiled. It didn’t matter what I said or did. It didn’t matter what anyone else thought of me. Under the infinite stars, I could justbe.
“I’ve never seen the sky like this before,” I said into the quiet.
He stirred, perhaps looking at me, but my gaze skipped from star to star.
I lifted one shoulder. “The new moon means the Wild Hunt. No one ventures out past dusk on those nights. But this…” My eyes stung, and that lump lodged in my throat. “If more people saw this, I wonder if they’d be easier on themselves… and each other.”
He remained silent, and I wondered if he’d fallen asleep, but then his fingers took up a slow circle on my shoulder. “Does this mean you might be easier on yourself?”
I sucked in a breath. Maybe it was the way I worked so feverishly or what I’d said when he’d spotted my scars. It could’ve been when I’d told him about losing Mama and Papa, or even just the evenings talking between his stories. I hadn’t realised, but I’d shown him parts of myself I usually kept hidden.
My eyelids fluttered, trying to ease the stinging of my eyes. “I can’t.”
“Ah. About that…” He shifted and reached into his breast pocket.
I rolled onto my side, so my hand was on his chest and I could look up at him, but whatever he pulled out was hidden in his palm.
His gaze roved over my face, mouth tugging in not quite a smile. “‘I can’t.’ I see you hesitate and think it. You say it to yourself too often for someone who told a fae lord he’s, and again, I quote, ‘an arrogant prick.’ Or for someone who tricked him into allowing her to escape‚ albeit temporarily.” He arched an eyebrow. “Or for someone who smacked a sluagh with a piece of wood despite atotallack of training with any sort of weapon. Or for someone who saw the Wild Hunt and survived. Or…” His voice lowered an octave, making my heart dip. “Or for someone who’s so utterly enchanted me.
“Next time anyone, including you, tells you that you can’t, I hope this will remind you that you already did.” He opened his hand, revealing a two-inch long pearlescent spur mounted in silver. Its chain clinked softly as he held it out.
I frowned from it to him and back again. “I don’t…” But… the length, the slender point. Not a spur, but aclaw. “Oh.”
“You took it from the sluagh, so I figure it’s yours.” He cocked his head. “Polishes up nicely, doesn’t it?”
That was one way to put it. Sitting up, I pulled the chain over my head and slid it under my gown. The claw sat between my breasts, cool and smooth. “A reminder,” I murmured. It filled my heart with something bright. No,hehad done that. “Thank you. It’s perfect. And…” I bent over him, kissed him—just a light touch, but it brought a low hum from his chest. “And you… thank you for being thoughtful and kind… for encouraging me… for letting me be myself… for liking that…” I shook my head, too many things trying to come out at once.
His hand planed up my back, jingling the jewels draped there. “I like thatverymuch indeed.”
I felt his words as much as I heard them and it was too much to bear being this far from his lips when they said such things, so I kissed him.
He must’ve felt the same, because he pulled me to him, crushing, wanting, and he delved, eager to taste every part of my mouth. I stretched along his hard body, its strength making me feel safe in a way I hadn’t since my parents had been alive.
I gave myself to that feeling, letting go of fear, falling into him completely.
His hand at my back, his fingers in my hair, the scrape of his stubble—this was better than good. It was a perfectly tailored jacket or a lost glove returned to its partner.
It was right.
We kissed and explored, breaths coming faster, harder. His pulse thrummed against my lips as I tasted the corded lines of his throat, and then, somehow, I was beneath him, whimpering at the pleasure he spiked through me with just a kiss.
I wanted more than just a kiss, though.
I took him between my legs, mere fabric between his hardness and my core, and our movements became more forceful as we pressed together. My body throbbed, pleasure bright in every nerve.
