Arcana Rising (The Arcana Chronicles #4)(58)

My missions had changed once more: destroy Richter, and make Aric happy. Time was running out for both. Which meant I would force my mind from the past. From the other half of my heart. “We don’t have time for this.”

“For what?”

“For not being together.”

He dropped his hand, seeming to steel himself against me. “And still your interest arises only because of our circumstances.”

I’d told him my feelings; I’d put myself out there. I’d never expected this much hostility. “I came here—despite all the things going on in my head—to offer you my future. And you’re refusing to meet me even a tenth of the way? That’s the reality of our ‘circumstances.’”

He was seething with something that looked a lot like . . . hate. “If Deveaux were here, you would choose him.”

“Still punishing me for my choice?” But then his eyes gave away a flicker of another emotion. Insight from my dreams and our past hit me, and for once, clarity sparked in my messed-up head. “That’s not the main issue, is it? You could get past that. No, you’re pushing me away . . . out of fear.”

No denial.

“At this moment, you’re afraid something will tear us apart yet again. You’d rather have the ongoing dream of a future than risk having your hope crushed once more.”

In a rare glimpse of vulnerability, he said, “Each time, right before you struck, I . . . believed. In the last game, the end of hope nearly destroyed me. Those first moments after your death, when I comprehended I would spend a dozen more lifetimes alone . . .” His expression grew stark. “I could not survive it again.”

“And I couldn’t survive losing you.” I pressed my fingertips to my temples. “Maybe we shouldn’t be together. Part of me still fears I’d be risking your life—because of the game or the gods or whatever—just by loving you.”

“I don’t believe that. But say it was true. I’d accept any risk to myself if I knew I would be your husband in truth. Understand me: if I could trade seven hundred years as the victor for seven months as your husband, I would make the bargain in an instant.” He moved a step closer, gazing down at me. “I would trade those centuries for seven days. Seven hours.”

“Aric . . .” I sidled closer, inhaling his heady scent. “What are we going to do?”

“I can’t vow that you’ll never lose me, and no vow of yours will alleviate my dread.” Nothing could convince him that we’d actually—after two thousand years—sleep together.

“Then maybe we should make a promise about tonight,” I said. “We either consummate our relationship now—or never. If we don’t move forward, our worst fears will be realized in a way.”

“Tonight?” His voice had roughened.

I nodded up at him, aching to touch him. To trace those runes and make him quake. “Tonight.” Lightning crackled overhead, and the hail grew louder. “Before you decide, I need you to know something.” I placed my palms on his warm chest. His heart was racing beneath my fingertips. “Aside from everything else . . . I want you.”

Mesmerizing light radiated from his eyes. “That, you must say again.”

I wetted my lips. “I want you.” Desire sizzled between us. Soon neither of us would be able to fight it.

“For all these lifetimes, I’ve waited for you to say that and to mean it.” He had endless centuries of pent-up loneliness—and lust.

I was almost afraid of what we were about to unleash. “I do mean it.” I leaned in to press a kiss against one of his runes, my tongue flicking rain from his damp skin.

“My gods.” Voice a rasp, he said, “And so I am snared? I won’t deny us—because I can’t?”

I drew back, shucking my pack, gaze drifting to his mouth, to that sexy dip in the center of his bottom lip. “Let’s talk after you kiss me.”

His arms wrapped around me. “Good idea.” He leaned down, his lips descending over mine. At the contact, my eyes slid closed; his pained groan rumbled against my mouth. When his tongue slipped between my lips, I twined my hands around his neck.

He slanted his mouth, his tongue slowly tangling with mine. For someone with so little practice, he was a devastating kisser. He tasted like rain and need.

My toes curled as we shared breaths. At some point he’d begun holding me upright—my legs had given way.

Gripping my ass, he easily lifted me. He groaned with approval when my legs wrapped around his hips.

My hands flew to his shoulders, kneading with delight as his muscles rippled beneath my palms.

But he broke away from our kiss, leaving me panting. His gaze narrowed with intent. With possessiveness. “If we cross this line, there is no returning from it. I will never let you go. You will be my wife in truth.”

“I won’t let you go either. And you’ll be my husband.” He. Was. Mine.

“We will be forever. We are forever.”

I gazed at his noble face, raising my hand to caress it. “Yes.”

His eyes slid shut with bliss when I smoothed my fingertips along his jawline, across his strong chin, over a broad cheekbone. “Sievā.” That one word was laden with yearning.

He wants to be a normal man. I was determined to give him anything he needed from me. Now. Amid all of my emotions, I dreaded that something would prevent this. The gods, the universe, whatever . . . When I yanked my poncho over my head, his eyes opened and went wide.