Song of Blood & Stone (Earthsinger Chronicles #1)(34)

Perhaps . . .

“You could probably fit on the cot.” She held her breath, waiting for his reaction.

Without a word, he stood and slid in next to her. There was just enough room for both of them to lay on their sides. His body warmed her back. His arm curled around her waist. She gathered her hair to one side so it would not be in his face, closed her eyes, and leaned further into his embrace.

The stress and uncertainty of the past days melted away as she settled in his arms. She’d woken up like this today. She wouldn’t mind waking like this every day. Aghast at the thought, she froze, not even allowing a breath to escape.

“What’s wrong?” Jack whispered into her neck.

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.” She pulled his hand tight against her stomach, both excited and afraid of her feelings. His breath on her neck was her only warning before his lips brushed the skin there. She shuddered as goose bumps prickled her flesh. He kissed her again.

“Jack,” she whispered.

His only response was another kiss, closer to where her neck met her shoulder.

“I haven’t ever . . . I mean, I want—”

“What do you want, Jasminda?” he said, running his lips across her skin.

She was afraid to say it out loud. While her head knew Papa’s dowry was little more than wishful thinking on his part, her heart longed for a family of her own, a husband, or even a lover. Though the embers of these secret longings had grown cold during her years of solitude, they’d never fully been extinguished.

Jack nudged the fabric of her dress aside to press a kiss to her shoulder. “Tell me. I’ll give you anything I can.”

She burned from his kisses, each touch of his lips a forbidden desire made real. She turned to face him but kept her gaze at his chest. He wiped the tears that had started to fall and tenderly kissed each cheek.

“Some things are not for me.” She forced herself to look him in the eye. Her fingers hovered over his lips until she found the strength to trace them. The full bow of his bottom lip called to her. “You aren’t for me.”

“So why is it that I can’t stop thinking about you?”

She drew closer, transfixed by his mouth. One taste—that’s all she would allow herself. One kiss just to know what it was like. Her lips met his, and a spark of electricity flooded her. The soft press and sheer strength of him made her dizzy. His heat radiated through her whole body as his fingers threaded through her hair, pulling them together. When his tongue prodded her gently, she opened, giving him entry.

She lost herself in his kiss, drawn under by the insistent waves that warmed her belly and gave rise to a host of butterflies.

When they broke apart, both breathing heavily, he captured her hand in his and pressed a kiss to her palm. Their foreheads met, and he stroked her cheek. Sliding an arm beneath her, he rolled them so he was on his back with her on top of him. He rested his hands on her lower back, and she longed to feel them everywhere, moving across her body, cooling her heated flesh.

He kissed her again, and she wiggled on top of him, wanting to burrow herself under his skin. Her thigh brushed against something rigid and she froze. Jack turned his head to the side and exhaled a breath.

“Please don’t move.” His voice was tightly controlled, his breathing ragged.

She stifled a giggle and rubbed her thigh against his erection again. Jack gave a mock roar, and in one movement, he swapped their positions and hovered over her on shaky arms. His eyes were intense, cloaked in desire, and she reached up to kiss him. She stroked his jaw, then slid her hand down his chest to his belly, stopping at his belt. His dark gaze was a plea. She moved downward, barely grazing his erection before he trapped her hand in his and placed it next to her head. He grabbed her other hand in a preemptive strike and shook his head. He kissed her once more, hard, before rising from the cot. She rolled to face him as he settled on the ground again.

“You can come back. I’ll be good. I promise.”

“I don’t want to make you an oath-breaker. And I will make no such promises.” His gaze stoked the fire within her, and she fell back on the thin mattress, a swirl of directionless desire.

“Tonight, we should sleep,” he said. “I do not want to do something that you will regret.”

“Would you regret it?”

He reached for her hand and drew it to his lips. “No. But it is not my virtue we are speaking of.” He kept her hand in his as he stretched out on the ground.

Her virtue. She’d feared it would be intact until the day she died. That she would never meet a man who desired her. But she had felt Jack’s desire, had seen it in his eyes. Could there be some kind of future that included her and Jack as lovers? The stories from the magazines were full of clandestine meetings and secret trysts. Marriage, children—those dreams of normalcy were closed to her. From the day she was born, her life had never been normal, but perhaps she could create the life she wanted, even if it was unusual. Perhaps she could create it with Jack.




“They found her.”

Jack looked up from the papers on his desk. “Found who?”

His assistant, Benn, stood just outside the office, his hand gripping the edge of the doorframe. “The farm girl, the one the mob was looking for. Turns out she ran off with her beau.”

Jack dropped his pen and sat back heavily in his chair, letting out a curse. “Has the magistrate identified everyone involved?”