“I know it’s selfish,” Jaren said, leading Kiva toward the windows, “but I don’t want to share you with anyone else tonight.” The orchestra launched into another melody. “May I have this dance, Kiva?”
Her throat suddenly dry, she answered by stepping closer. He didn’t lead her into a waltz this time; instead, his arms encircled her waist, guiding her to sway gently in place, his eyes never leaving hers.
. . . Eyes that were full of emotion, revealing everything, hiding nothing, his heart laid bare.
Kiva’s pulse grew erratic.
“Do you remember that night in the garden?” he asked quietly.
Kiva swallowed. They’d only ever been in one garden together — her medical garden back in Zalindov. And they’d only ever been out there once at night, when Tipp had fallen ill. But before they’d found him —
“I wanted to kiss you that night,” Jaren murmured.
Kiva’s breath lodged somewhere in her chest.
Jaren leaned down, his lips by her ear as he whispered, “And I think you wanted to kiss me, too.”
A shiver traveled along Kiva’s spine. “A lot has happened since then,” she breathed, her voice different to her ears. Low, husky.
Jaren’s eyes darkened at the sound. “It has,” he agreed, one of his hands moving slowly, languidly, up her side and across her shoulder, before whispering up her neck to cup her face.
Flames ignited beneath Kiva’s skin at his touch, her stomach dipping, molten heat pooling in her core.
Gently, Jaren pulled off her mask, and a moment later, his own was gone. The full effect of his unconcealed expression — the desire, the longing — made Kiva’s knees weak.
“A lot has happened,” Jaren repeated her words in a whisper, his thumb stroking her cheek. “A lot has changed.” He leaned in so close that she could feel his breath on her skin. “But the one thing that hasn’t is how I feel about you.”
Kiva’s fingers clutched at his chest, her breathing turning shallow.
Jaren angled his head to the side, his nose brushing hers. A quiet sound left her lips, the noise making his already-dark eyes darken even more, the gold rims like circles of fire in a twilight sky.
The sight was too much for Kiva, and she closed her own eyes, achingly aware of what he must be able to read in her expression.
His mouth moved back to her ear as he murmured there, “I know you’re scared.” He pressed a whisper-soft kiss against her neck.
Kiva whimpered.
“But I promise you don’t have to be.” Another kiss, this one at the edge of her jaw. “You’re safe with me, Kiva. You’ll always be safe with me.”
Her shallow breaths turned into panting.
“Open your eyes, sweetheart,” Jaren whispered.
It took her a moment, her heart pounding, pounding, pounding, but when she looked at Jaren again, everything in her stilled at what she saw radiating from his expression.
And then she erupted.
Kiva didn’t know who moved first, but suddenly his lips were on hers, his hand tangling in her hair, his other arm drawing her chest flush against his. At the flick of his tongue, she gasped, her mouth opening automatically. He moaned as their kiss deepened, the sound causing her legs to buckle enough that his arm became a steel band around her waist, keeping her upright. She leaned her whole body against him, her hands sliding up his chest to his neck and into his impossibly soft hair, holding his face to hers, never wanting their kiss to end.
But then he shifted slightly, and the dagger at his belt dug into Kiva’s side, the jolt of pain enough that she drew back with a quiet, “Ouch.”
Jaren looked dazed, his hair mussed and eyes glassy, but with clear effort, he asked, “Are you all right?”
Unable to help herself, Kiva touched his face, tracing a finger over his kiss-swollen lips.
Heat flared in his eyes again, that same heat filling every part of her, but before he could lean toward her once more, she reached for his dagger, pulling it from his belt.
“Can we get rid of —” Kiva’s words halted as she stared at the weapon.
“I’m sorry, I forgot all about it,” Jaren said, prying the dagger from her suddenly numb fingers. “It’s ceremonial, something I’m encouraged to wear to formal events. The blade isn’t even sharp.” He ran his finger along the edge to show her what he meant.
But Kiva wasn’t looking at the blade.
She was looking at the hilt.
And at the clear gemstone embedded into it.
Kiva pointed a shaky finger at the jewel, a horrible feeling growing within her as she asked, “What is that?”