Total pages in book: 247
Estimated words: 235897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1179(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 786(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 235897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1179(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 786(@300wpm)
My hips arch up as he settles between my thighs, and the weight of him feels so damned good that I moan. Limiting ourselves to the kiss only makes it that much more intense, like we’re both desperate to elicit every sensation possible in the simple yet infinitely complex connection of our mouths.
Madness. This need between us is always the sweetest madness. He is the craving I’ll never sate, the rush I’ll never get enough of. Only him.
I hook my ankles over the small of his back and kiss him with every ounce of longing that’s built within me over the last few weeks. He sucks my tongue into his mouth, and I whimper as heat flushes my skin and addles my mind.
“I love you,” he says against my mouth and rolls his hips.
“I love you.” The confession ends on a gasp as I feel just how hard he is for me. My hands slip down his muscled back over the leather of his flight jacket. “I miss you.”
“Violet,” he groans, his hands capturing mine, pinning them above my head—
No. Not his hands.
Shadows.
My breath hitches. He holds me as a more-than-willing captive while he kisses me over and over, a heady combination of urgency and demand paired with determined restraint.
He slides the backs of his fingers down my neck, and goose bumps rise on my skin as pure, electric need runs the length of my body. “Fuck, your skin is so damned soft.”
My only answer is a whimper, then a moan when the caress is followed by his mouth.
“Yes.” My hands tug at their bonds, and I arch my neck for more.
“Still just a kiss.” He works his way down my throat and grasps my hip—
He rolls away from me so quickly that I almost go with him, and I’m left staring at my ceiling, gasping for breath, but at least he’s in the same condition.
“Fuck.” He throws his forearm over his eyes. “Please have mercy and say something—anything that distracts me from how damned good you feel in my arms.”
I blink, trying to force my mind to function, and the soft bands of shadow retreat, freeing my wrists. My heartbeat slows just enough to allow logic to creep its way in, and I shove my hands back under my pillow to keep from reaching in his direction.
The book. “My dad left me a letter. He needs me to go to Deverelli.”
His head whips to me and I slowly turn mine, locking our eyes. “Then we’ll go.”
My body isn’t big enough to contain how much I love this man. “We’d have to go under the pretense of searching for Andarna’s kind, and I think that’s what he’s alluding to, but I could be wrong. I have to read the research.”
His brow furrows. “You still think we should search the isles, right?”
I nod.
“Then it seems like we can accomplish two goals with one trip.”
I ghost my tongue over my swollen lower lip. “Searching the isles means we’d need the audience with the king, which requires leaving the wards to get an artifact for the King of Deverelli and calling in help from Halden, so it’s not that easy a choice—”
“It is. If my dad left me a letter…” Xaden rolls up onto his elbow. “You can tell me all the ways it’s going to be shitty, and I’ll still say let’s go.”
“The artifact is in occupied territory.”
His face tightens. “And if I ask you to stay behind, all cozy and safe while I get it?”
I shake my head.
“Yeah. That’s what I thought.” He sighs. “At least it will be a chance to evaluate how we function in this squad Grady has put together. When do you want to leave?”
“As soon as possible.”
The gem given to you upon graduation from Cliffsbane should always be worn close to the heart, but if you have not mastered your control, it will only amplify your downfall.
—Chapter Three, The Canon of the Flier
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Four nights later, our riot of eight—now including Mira, thanks to Halden throwing his royal weight around—crosses the border at Samara, and magic slips free of the wards’ cage. Power expands in every direction, running like a current that rushes around me, beckoning me to play…or destroy. My skin tingles as we slip down into the valleys through the Esbens, and I’m struck with the oddest urge to try and pluck strands from the very sky and weave runes.
“It feels like there’s more power out here than usual,” I tell Tairn as we dive along a ridgeline.
“There’s actually less—the venin saw to that,” he replies. “But you grow more powerful every day, more capable of recognizing what once was entirely invisible to you.”
“I could recognize it,” Andarna chimes in. “If you ever let me come with you.”
“With Theophanie hunting you, you’re far safer at Samara.” I grip the pommels as Tairn levels out along the riverbank, sticking to the shadows the overcast night has provided. I swear, there’s a permanent bruise just below my sternum from trying to sleep in the saddle. This thing could use some modifications before we head to Deverelli.