The Silent: Irin Chronicles Book Five(46)
“Reshon. Your voice was very, very clear…”
Kyra was his reshon. A soul created to match his own. A gift of heaven and the truest mate in every sense. Her soul would feed his own. His touch would soothe her, and his voice would resonate the most clearly in her mind. Always—for the rest of his life—she would be his other half.
Profound gratitude filled his heart, and a prayer fell from his lips in the Old Language: “I give thanks to the Creator
For in my heart I have found
The other half of my being
My search is over
My soul is complete.”
Leo walked through the silent forest, nodding at each of the Grigori who stood watch among the kareshta cottages. Clad in deep saffron robes, Niran’s men looked like monks and bore the intricate Sak Yant tattoo marks Sura had given them. But every face, no matter how calm, had the determined look of a warrior.
He climbed Kyra’s steps and opened her door, toeing off his shoes before he entered. A lamp was burning in the corner of the room, and Kyra’s eyes flickered open when he closed the door behind them.
She murmured, “We’re back.”
“And you’re exhausted,” he said. “But do you want to clean up before you get in bed? I can get water.”
“My feet…” She wrinkled her nose. “There’s water in the corner.”
Leo set her down on the bed and took off her sandals. Her feet were dusty from the dirt and gravel paths through the temple and the forest, so he walked to the corner and poured some water into the large bowl on the nightstand. He took it to her, then placed her feet in the cool water.
“What are you doing?”
“Washing your feet.”
Her cheeks turned delightfully red. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to.”
Leo brought the pitcher to the side of her bed along with a lump of fragrant soap and a towel he found hanging in the corner.
“Pull up your dress,” he said, kneeling at her feet. “Just a little.”
Kyra slowly pulled the sundress up to her knees, baring her ankles and calves to his gaze. Leo’s pulse picked up and he hardened, but he ignored his reaction and poured the water over her legs, following the path of the clear liquid as it ran over her shapely calves, caressed her ankles, and fell quietly into the ceramic basin. He picked up the soap and dipped it in the water, lifting his eyes to hers as he ran his hands up and down her legs, washing the dust and grime of the day from her skin.
Kyra said nothing, but her lips were flushed. Her breasts rose and fell with each breath as she watched him. Leo took his time, running the soap over every inch of her skin, slipping his fingers behind her knees to ease her foot up before he traced the lines of her legs down her shins and around her ankles. He stroked the arch of her foot, and her toes curled in his palm before he washed them too. He massaged her ankles and her calves, easing the tension from the muscle there with long strokes.
Her skin was soft and smelled of jasmine. The oil in the soap shimmered on the surface of the water as he tipped the water pitcher over her legs again, rinsing the suds from her skin before he lifted each foot and dried it with the soft towel. He pushed the basin to the side and placed her clean feet on his thighs before he closed his eyes. He put his forehead to her knees and kissed her skin, hugging her legs to his chest.
“Leo, you—”
“Shh.” His breath warmed her knees. “This is enough.”
“I want to wash you too,” she said quietly.
Erotic images bombarded his mind. He wanted to bite her knees and kiss the soft skin of her inner thighs. He wanted to spread her legs and search for the lush scent that tormented him. He wanted to cover her with his body, invade her heat, and find release. He imagined Kyra wet and naked, pouring water over him in the bath. He would circle her waist with his hands, lick at her belly, dip his tongue…
His erection was so hard it was painful.
“Not tonight,” he said, his voice grating in the silence.
Leo stood and lifted Kyra’s legs over and onto the bed. “Do you need to change?”
She nodded. “My nightgown is hanging on the peg by the washstand.”
He walked over and retrieved it for her, trying not to envy the cool cotton fabric that would touch her skin. He handed her the gown, then went behind the screen in the corner, facing the wall as he heard her change from her dress to her nightclothes.
“I’m changed.”
He walked back toward the bed and sat on the edge, forcing his thoughts to remain on the mundane. He took off his socks and placed them at the end of the bed. He removed his shirt; he would need to borrow one in the morning if anything could be found big enough for him. His pants… were definitely staying on.
Kyra was lying on her side with the bedspread pulled over her, watching him as he undressed. Leo blew out the lamp and decided sleeping on top of the bedspread was probably a good idea. In the darkness, her eyes fell to his chest and the dark tattoos that covered his arms and shoulders.
“So many,” she said.
“Call me an overachiever,” he said. He scooted up next to her and put his head on the pillow. “You’re certain you’re comfortable with me sleeping on the bed?”
“Yes.” She lifted a hand, then let it drop. “You make me feel safe, Leo. You always have.”