Between Tides Thunder(129)

I frown. “Sorka said they’d be ‘open to discussion.’ That’s not exactly welcoming me with open arms.”

Zev chuckles against my skin. “He couldn’t very well write ‘Please come rule us.’ You’ve made more progress in just three months than most rulers make in years. New trade routes, the wielder-exchange, consistent letters and delegation. They’ll welcome you back. They just need to see you.”

Doubt still needles beneath my ribs. Arbinj has been surprisingly warm to change. Tundrayn has been colder in every sense. We hadn’t risked a visit while tensions remained high. Sorka’s ruled over the kingdom since … I killed my father. I haven’t seen my homeland since I left with Zev all those months ago.

That changes today.

From the balcony, I spot the carriages ready to ferry us across the border. I lace my fingers with Zev’s, steadying myself with the simple strength of him, and we head through the palace halls together.

In the courtyard, we bid Tairna farewell with tight hugs and promises to write as soon as we arrive. Zev guides us toward the royal carriage, but I tug him left—to a smaller, unassuming one. The prisoner’s carriage. The same one where Zev once shackled me.

He arches a brow. “Seriously?”

I fight a grin. “I’m only insisting on this painfully unworthy contraption for your safety. But worry not, husband. Once we reach Tundrayn, we’ll switch back into the royal carriage. You’ll enter the capital with all the pomp—”

I squeal as Zev scoops me into his strong arms and swiftly climbs the steps, settling down on the bench with me in his lap, hands gripping my waist with an easy possession.

“That smart mouth’s going to get you in trouble,” he murmurs, skimming his lips over mine.

“Mmm, I love being in trouble with you.”

“Yeah?”

“No. Not at all, actually,” I whisper. A shudder ripples through him, his lips curling into a sinful smirk that has my thighs clenching around his. Zev likes these tiny lies, I’ve learned, the ones that send a prickle down his spine and reassurance through his heart.

That it was all real. That we are real.

His lips are on mine before I can blink, and he swallows my startled gasp when the carriage lurches into motion.

I break our kiss, lifting one of his arms to the shackle bolted into the carriage wall.

“Mayah—”

“It’s not iron.” Click. The first cuff snaps shut. “I had Gregoran switch them out.”

Click.

“Oh?” Zev’s voice deepens, dark with promise as I shift in his lap. “And what exactly did you tell Gregoran about why you needed new shackles?”

“He didn’t ask.” I press a kiss to Zev’s lips, drawing back before he can deepen it. “But if he had asked, I’d have said it’s between me and my husband.”

I grind my hips and watch as his eyes flutter shut with a ragged groan.

“And what exactly is between us?” he asks hoarsely.

I scrape my teeth along his thick collarbone, reveling in his sharp inhale. I don’t bother answering, just bracket his jaw between my palms and kiss him greedily. Tides, I’ll never tire of his taste—of how he kisses me like he’s starving.

Even shackled, he holds all the power.

His tongue delves into my mouth, coaxing a breathless moan from me. If I’m not careful, he’ll kiss me senseless, and I’ll forget my plan.

Still kissing him, I summon power into my palms.

It’s takes him a moment to realize what I’ve done.

He jerks back, eyes wide. “Skies, Mayah. You—”

“I channeled my power into you.”

His chest heaves, face twisting into something like desperation.

“Fuck, baby. I—I could hurt you.”

“You won’t. And even if you do, luckily, I know an excellent healer.” I slide off his lap, settling lazily across from him on the bench, legs spread wide in invitation.

His gaze drops, dark and hungry. “Uncuff me. Let me channel into you, too.” His voice is an anguished growl, but I only smile.

“Next time,” I whisper huskily. My tongue darts out to trace my lower lip. He watches, entranced. “This time, I want to be in my senses when you ravage me.”

His breathing roughens, wrists straining against the cuffs. He blinks rapidly, then drags his gaze back to my eyes.

“Why now? We could’ve done this in our bed.”

I shrug. “It’s more fun this way.”

“Want to know what I think?” he rasps. “You’re afraid to return to Tundrayn. And you want a distraction.”

I purse my lips. “Both things can be true.”

He tips his head back, eyes closed, a deep growl rumbling through his chest. When he looks at me again, his eyes are nearly black. “Pick a word. Say it, and I’ll try my best to stop.”

“Thunder.” I have no intention of using it, though.

His gaze drags over me—mouth, throat, thighs—as if deciding which part of me he wants to devour first.

“Uncuff me,” he snarls, straining against the shackles.

“What’s wrong, baby?” I croon, widening my legs. “You look a little flushed.”

He’s panting now—not for air, but for me.