Ever the Hunted (Clash of Kingdoms #1)(54)

“Then I suppose I do too,” I whisper, and stand up.

Cohen lowers the bucket of water to the ground before rising and reaching for my arm. “Britta.” His voice is deep. Throaty.

His eyes have darkened to the color of the earth after a rainstorm. “Yes?”

“Don’t go yet.”

“I wasn’t, I—”

“I thought about you,” he says, frowning, then sighing. I would give anything to know what he’s thinking right now.

“You did?”

“When we were apart, you were always there in my mind.”

Every nerve in my body zings with awareness of his truth as well as his proximity, muddling the remaining intact portion of my thoughts. I should remind him he left over fifteen months ago and never contacted me. I should step back. But . . .

I want very much to pursue this moment.

He touches my cheek. Heat dances beneath my skin as his fingers slip around my head. His hold is gentle and careful and confusing.

His thumb runs lightly across my lower lip. “Britt, tell me this is all right.”

His plea is nearly drowned by the rush of pulse that beats a deafening rhythm in my ears. The rain increases, pelting our skin, and the wind sings around us. Instead of ducking away, I rise up on my toes, scared, and, at the same time, so full of want.

I hear him whisper my name once more before his mouth is on mine. Oh stars. My lips are frozen beneath his as shock and logic wage war—?this is everything I shouldn’t want. Still, I don’t care. He kisses me gently at first, and then not so much when my lips respond. His hands clutch me to him; the firm spread of his body presses against mine. I can taste the mint leaf on his lips. His tongue. Flames shoot through my limbs and burn my heart, erasing every single thought in my head except for the sweet awareness of Cohen. Of our needy kiss.

My fingers are possessed, tracing up his neck to twist in his hair. A moan escapes his throat. Oh my. It’s the most alluring sound I’ve ever heard.

All too soon his mouth leaves mine and I gasp in objection.

He lets out a husky breath, and a second later my embarrassing protest dies when his lips wind a trail down my throat and back up, moving along my jaw until his breath fans the hollow behind my ear.

“Britta? Cohen?”

Cohen jerks back, eyeing the blue-black shadows around Enat’s home and then me as if waking from a dream. Disoriented by the sudden disconnection of our kiss, I trip toward Cohen, but he rights me with both hands on my shoulders.

Enat calls our names once more.

“We better go,” he says, squeezing my arms. He turns and moves toward Enat’s voice, but just before he’s out of sight, he looks back and gives me a tipped smile.

I touch my swollen lips as the rain falls. And stand there, drowning in disbelief.

What. Was. That?





Chapter

23


IN THE MORNING, THICK MIST CURLS THROUGH the trees and blankets the forest ground. I watch as Cohen rides away on Siron, wisps of white furling around the black beast’s legs like the clouds are carrying him away.

Cohen is leaving for the city to speak with Delmar again. Enat says he’s a trustworthy kinsman and is the one who will, in turn, contact Millner Barret and set up a meeting. Cohen argued to go alone because the guards are looking for both of us. Disguised and on his own, he could slip through town easier than if we were together.

Part of me is grateful for the time away from him. Last night I hardly slept. Every time Cohen shifted in his sleep, I was acutely aware of his movements and his slow and steady breaths, despite our being on opposite sides of the room. Hours passed. I tossed and turned and thought about the kiss in the rain. About Cohen. About what’ll happen next.

I fear I’ve made a terrible—?wonderful—?abysmal mistake.

After Cohen is pardoned, he’ll leave to help his brother in the war, or he’ll return to hunt for the king. I cannot fault him for his allegiance, but I fear he won’t want to be with me. After all, he left me once before. Losing him again will crush me.

Even if he stayed and wanted me, how could we ever be together? Cohen’s duty to his family comes first. Any ties to me will be a stain on his reputation, which could possibly have negative consequences for his mother and sister. When we were younger, he bloodied a few noses when boys teased him about being my friend. Now that we’re older, a fistfight won’t bridge the divide between our two stations in life.

When Cohen returns, I’ll explain that the kiss was a one-time incident, a lapse in judgment to satisfy my curiosity. It meant nothing.

The excuse rattles through my head as I sit beside Enat’s warm-springs well. The heat rising from the ring of stone contrasts with the cool clutches of mist, and I find myself shivering, despite the ridiculous dress pinching my skin.

I fold my arms tight to my body. I’m uneasy about talking to Cohen, but what vexes me the most is that Cohen will already realize he made a mistake.

“You have that look on your face again. What are you thinking?”

I jump to standing, startled by Enat’s comment. She breaks through the mist with two empty baskets in each hand.

I tug at my collar in a futile search of comfort. Blasted dress. “I was thinking about all that’s happened.” It’s not exactly a lie. I want to be honest with Enat, considering all she’s shared with me.