Rebel Born (Secondborn #3)(83)

A heat creeps over my cheeks. “You’ve seen me without my clothes before,” I remind him. He rescued me from his allies, fended them off. Afterward he bathed me and tended to my wounds.

“Then I couldn’t see past your bruises. I wanted to kill them for what they did to you, Roselle. Daltrey wouldn’t allow it, so I had to settle for beating them, the way they’d beaten you.”

I freeze. “Why would you do that? They were your soldiers. They were just doing what soldiers do.”

“You were surrendering—defenseless. That wasn’t a battle. Their lives weren’t in jeopardy. You didn’t even fight back. It was just blind cruelty.”

I move a step closer to him and rest my hand against his heart. It thumps wildly in his chest. “You’re not a cruel man.”

His hand covers mine. “You’re wrong. I am, but only to those who hurt what I love.”

“I love you, too.”

“You’re just saying that because it’s the end of the world, but I don’t care. I’ll take it.” He leans down to kiss me.

I reach a finger up and press it against his lips. “I’m not.” Our eyes meet. “Reykin, I’m saying it because it’s true. It’s the beginning of us. We won’t let anyone or anything tear us apart again.” My finger drops from his mouth.

Something snaps inside him. Heat and passion sharpen his gaze and features. Firm lips press to mine, devouring me. Wherever his skin touches me, I burn. His hand slips down my abdomen. My back arches. I kiss his neck, and the salty taste of his skin mixes with the scent of lemongrass, the combination irresistible. My teeth graze his neck. A soft gasp of his breath against my ear sends a shiver down my spine.

We know each other’s rhythms. We learned them in combat, but now we torture each other to exquisite heights of pleasure, every throbbing ache drawn out to ratchet up our torment until a pinnacle of raw exaltation leaves us both satiated and soothed.



Reykin’s fingers stroke my temple as we cuddle. We want to stay awake, to preserve this moment for as long as possible, but the last few hours’ haze of ecstasy gradually dissipates. A soft, worried sigh escapes me.

His fingers caress my hair. “What’s wrong?”

“Clifton,” I reply.

“Are you going to tell him about us?” His voice is casual enough, but his breath slows as he waits for my answer.

“He already knows. He was by the door earlier . . . when you were doing that thing with your tongue.”

He tries to hold back his chuckle and fails. His chest heaves with male pride. “You mean the thing that made you scream my name over and over?”

“Yes, that.” Thinking about it makes my toes curl, but my heart sinks.

He finds my hand. His fingers entwine in mine and squeeze. “So he knows about us. Is that going to be a problem for you?”

I tilt my head up and meet his eyes so he sees that I’m not hiding anything. “No, it’s not, but I would’ve told him in a kinder way than by screaming out your name in the heat of passion, though. Clifton didn’t deserve to find out like that, but the way it happened between us tonight was spontaneous. Secretly, I wanted it to happen, but neither of us planned it.”

“You’re glad it happened?”

“Reykin, given our feelings for one another, it was inevitable. It’s just . . .”

“What?” He shifts so we can see each other better.

“How do I stop it all from ending? I see the signs. We’re in the blur. What’s happening here is different from what’s happening in Spectrum’s alternate universe. I’m not sure how long it plans to keep us.”

“To keep us?”

“To let us live. I feel tension. Crow and the collective want me desperately—want my power, my traits.”

“Why not just destroy everything now?” he asks, his features darkening.

“Because of my potential for more. Spectrum cannot look away if it believes it can be stronger with me than without me.”

Thoughts of Hawthorne invade my mind, but I suppress them. It’s too much right now. I’m a traitor, that much is clear, but not to my own heart. It loves Reykin—every shattered, ugly piece of it.

Reykin’s limbs coil with mine. “Sleep,” he whispers. “We’ll make plans after you rest.”

I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep, but wrapped as I am in his arms, drowsiness overcomes me. I sleep, and I dream. I dream of stretching into dark matter, of multiplying the stars.





Chapter 15

Fugitive Motel

I awaken in the middle of the night, feeling a sizzle, low and dull, in my head.

Reykin breathes softly beside me, asleep. I untangle our bodies. He snuggles my pillow to him. I flitter out of bed and pad off the altar-like dais. My mind reaches out in the quiet. A smoldering feeling of flame and moonlight echoes back to me. It’s the sensation I associate with Cherno. He’s near. I wrap a silken ivory robe around my shoulders and tie it at the waist before creeping to the glass wall.

Cherno’s eyes flicker, two flames dancing in the darkness. He’s resting on a lounge chair within the walls of my private patio. It’s sort of comforting. My curiosity piqued, I slide open the glass and step outside. The dragon-man studies me while I cross to the seat beside his. I perch on the cushion, which is still a little damp from the rain, and wait for him to speak first. He is clutching a large dragon scale. The metallic veneer shines in the simulated moonlight.