Total pages in book: 13
Estimated words: 11696 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 58(@200wpm)___ 47(@250wpm)___ 39(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 11696 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 58(@200wpm)___ 47(@250wpm)___ 39(@300wpm)
A sigh moved through her when he withdrew his hand from between her thighs—and she drew in a sharper breath when he brought his fingers to his mouth to lick the wetness away. He made a deep and rumbling sound of pleasure, then met her widened eyes.
“I will taste you more fully, if you’ll let me. When we make camp.”
Her heart leapt. She wanted that. She’d dreamed of that. And perhaps they had been foolish dreams…but she could not pass up the opportunity for more time with him, to make more precious memories. No matter how much more it would hurt later.
Jerkily she nodded. Then managed to say, “So I’m going to be eaten up tonight, after all.”
A breath hissed through his teeth. “Never will I be able to jest about that. Not when I came so near to losing—”
He broke off, clutching her tighter to his chest, his face buried in her hair. Flora bit her lip, wondering if she should take her words back when she felt the tell-tale shaking of his chest and the silent huffs of laughter against her ear.
“You destroy me so easily, Flora,” he finally said, then pressed a kiss to her temple before wrapping his arm around her waist and taking the reins. “Rest now.”
Smiling, she eased back against him and pillowed her head against his shoulder. She would rest, but wouldn’t sleep. Not for anything would she miss of a moment of this night—the only night she would have before they reached home. Only one night to gather up as many memories as she could hold.
Then she would let him go.
2
They were still riding through the forest when the Stoneheart warriors caught up to them in a thunder of hoofbeats. Flora couldn’t mistake their relief when the glow of their torches revealed her astride Brom’s mount, alive and unharmed.
Yet Flora had expected to see one other with them. “Did my cousin not come?”
She was answered by Erra, Brom’s second-in-command. “Prince Vash remains with your king.” Her piercing gaze shifted to Brom and her voice seemed heavy with meaning as she added, “He awaits a message.”
“Tell him that Flora is safe,” Brom said, his arm tightening around her waist as if to reinforce how safe she was. “I will take her home—but let him know that the Stoneheart clan will never claim King Martas as a friend.”
Flora’s heart constricted. But she could not even draw breath to protest before Erra had turned her horse on a tight rein and set off, flanked by two other warriors.
“Flora needs rest,” Brom said to the others, and was told that a stream and clearing lay not far ahead. A few rode on at a quicker pace to set up camp, while Brom and Flora—leading her exhausted gray gelding—continued at a walk.
Finally she found her voice, but mindful of the warriors around them, spoke for his ears only. “Innis cannot defend against the ogres. Not alone. And they do intend to start a war. My uncle was not mistaken in that.”
She was living proof of their intentions. And only because Brom had arrived in time, otherwise she’d have been dead proof.
“We will speak on it tomorrow,” he replied quietly. “If we begin now, no rest would we get this night, for there is too much to explain—but I vow to you that your people will be protected.”
Never would Brom speak a promise that he wouldn’t keep. Flora was certain of that. She was not so persuaded as to the other reason he gave. “I did not think you intended to let me rest when we make camp. You spoke of tasting me, instead.”
“You will be lying on your back in my furs with your legs wrapped around my head. You need not exert any effort at all, except to hold in your screams when I make you come. That seems to me a fair way to rest.”
Flora snickered. Then the image he’d painted hit her, and anticipation drew her nerves taut.
That tension heightened as they arrived at the camp, where the warriors had already set up a single round tent made of hide surrounded by an array of bedrolls. Flora quickly bathed in the cool stream, rinsing leaves and dirt from her hair, and only accepted a clean tunic because it was another of Brom’s. While she sat by the fire drying her hair and eating her fill of bread, cheese, and roasted rabbit, Brom tended to the raw abrasions around her wrists, applying a salve and carefully wrapping them in strips of linen. And each moment she was thinking of his furs, and his mouth, and the screams she’d have to hold in.
Then Brom rose to his feet and held out his hand. With her heart pounding wildly, Flora took it.
He led her to the tent, but her gaze lingered on the bedrolls around it. “They’ll be outside?”