Obsidian and Stars (Ivory and Bone #2)(72)

He pulls out a fire starter.

This cave is used as a lookout point, and a supply of wood is already stacked against the wall. He would have remembered that.

It isn’t long before Kol has an ember glowing in the fire pit. He stretches out on his side, his face close to the glowing tinder, his lips pursed as he blows breath into the flames. I watch his mouth, moving like he’s sharing a secret, and I want to know his secrets, too.

I stretch out beside him. He startles.

“So why did we come here?” I ask. “Did you want to talk? Or . . . something else?”

Kol laughs, a nervous sound in his throat. “I came here with you to spend time with you. For now, we’re still betrothed, and you said it yourself—that’s what betrothed couples do.” The fire catches. He turns to lie flat on his back, still stretched out across the ground. He doesn’t make a move to sit up, so I slide closer to him, propping myself on an elbow.

“That’s one thing they do,” I say.

I watch Kol as warmth from the fire spreads across his face, creating shadows in the hollows beneath his cheekbones, setting circles of light in the blacks of both eyes. A smile climbs from his lips to those eyes. The blacks cool when I lean over him, shielding his face from the light, my mouth hovering over his.

“I’m not ready to kiss you,” he says. His smile widens and his eyes flash when I pull back. “Not just yet, at least.” He draws his legs in and sits up, reaching for the pack again. “I brought something for you—not really a gift. Something more symbolic.”

His hand slides out of the pack, a pouch of honey tucked against his palm.

“I’ve been wanting to share honey with you again, ever since the evening you brought a cup of honey from the south to my hut.” He pauses a moment, and I wonder if the same memories that light in my mind are lighting in his. “I wanted to kiss you that night—I wanted to taste the honey on your lips—but I missed the chance.

“I was hoping maybe I would get another chance today.”

A flutter of nerves ripples through me as he places the pouch of honey in my hands. It’s warm from his own. I notice the pouch is a bit larger and newer than the one he gave me as a betrothal gift—the one I’d refused when he’d tried to give it to me the first night we met.

A hollow bone serves as a spout, and I consider pouring a bit onto the tip of a finger. But that’s not what I did on the evening we’re re-creating. I turn the pouch in my hand, feeling the fullness of it, and I let my gaze sweep over Kol for just a moment. The playful smile on his lips only fans my nerves. I look away.

Tilting my head back, I close my eyes as I hold the pouch above my open mouth. The shock of taste on my tongue pulls a breath from my throat, a short gasp. I open my eyes, and as I lift my head, a drizzle of warm sweet liquid spills over my lower lip.

Kol doesn’t hesitate. What he said must be true—he must have been waiting for this chance since that night. His hands grasp my waist, pulling me toward him. His lips cover mine, and he drinks in every trace of honey that lingers there. His kiss deepens, his tongue tasting the inside of my lip.

His grip loosens, and he pulls away just enough to look into my eyes.

“Was it worth the wait?” I ask. My voice bubbles out of me. It’s the happiest sound I’ve made in a long time.

“It was even better than I’d hoped.”

“It is remarkably good honey,” I say. “The sweetest I’ve ever had.”

“I would agree.”

“Whose is it, then?” I ask. “Yours or mine? Gathered in the north, or the south?”

“Hmmm, good question. Let me sample it again.” He reaches for the pouch, but I pull it away. “Let me.”

His eyes pinch—he’s not sure what I plan to do and he’s strangely wary. I slide closer to him. “Lie back,” I say.

“I’m trusting you,” he answers, that half smile I know so well flickering in the firelight. His eyes close and he slides back, stretching against the stone floor once more.

“Hold still,” I say, my voice so low it makes no echo even in this cave. The snap of wood on the fire almost drowns out my words. The fragrance of the honey mixes with the smoke. The scent warms me.

Kol’s lips are parted but my hand is shaking, and the first drips from the spout fall on his cheek. My lips find the place and I kiss the honey away. I try—and miss—again, this time leaving a sticky trail across his chin.

“I think you’re missing on purpose,” he murmurs as my lips move over the warm skin of his face, tracing sweet lines left by my nervous hand.

“Maybe,” I whisper back. My fingers are sticky, and a trail of honey smudges Kol’s skin as my hands slide down his throat. I lean over and touch the spot with my lips.

But then I hesitate. Am I taking this too far?

Maybe—just for a little while—it’s all right to be playful. Maybe for a few moments we can stop being two High Elders and be nothing more than each other’s betrotheds. My lips flutter over Kol’s skin and I kiss the last of the honey away.

Kol pulls me down beside him, finding my lips with his. His kiss is slow and searching. Heat ripples across my skin like a vibration on the head of a drum. His hand draws back my hair and he leans close to my ear. When he speaks, his words stir my hair against my neck. “I wish this never had to end.”