“Aye.”
“Move, H.” Boots scraping stone, Shay retreated a few steps. “You’re in the way.”
With a nod, Henrik backpedaled, giving Shay the room he needed.
Eyes narrowed, Shay unleashed his speed and sprinted for the edge. He found a toehold. His feet left the ground. Black cloak rippling behind him, he leapt over the trap, landing with a thump on the other side.
Andrei met the younger assassin’s gaze, opened his mouth, and—
“Do not.” Stepping in close, Shay slapped Andrei on the shoulder. The sharp sound rippled, ricocheting down the length of the tunnel. “Naught to worry about, Andrei. I’m singed, but otherwise intact.”
“All right, then.” Blowing out a breath, Andrei flexed his fingers. The blaze reacted, burning hot and bright, painting the stone walls in a blue wash. Fisting one hand, Andrei snuffed out the flames. Smoke swirled, rising from his fingertips. Using his other palm like a torch, he raised it high and turned to search the tunnel for pitfalls ahead of them. “I’ll lead.”
“Go.” With a gentle shift, Henrik adjusted his grip on Cosmina.
She flinched. “I can walk.”
“I know,” he said, lying through his teeth. She could no more walk than he could grow wings and fly. But pride was a fragile thing, and for some reason, he wanted to preserve hers. “But we’ve a ways to go yet. Save your strength, Cosmina. Sleep if you can. ’Twill be a hard ride once we reach the horses.”
“We won’t make it that far, unless . . .”
“Unless what?”
“It’s going to sound crazy.”
Her eyelashes flickered, revealing pure white irises. His senses sharpened as her eyes started to shimmer. Dipping his head, he pressed his jaw to her temple and nudged her. She got the message and tipped her chin up, giving him a better view of her face.
“What are you seeing?”
She shook her head, apprehension clouding the air around her.
He bumped her again, then changed course and brushed his mouth over her temple. As she sighed, he prompted her again. “What is it, iubita?”
“You’ll make fun.”
“Nay, I won’t,” he murmured against her cheek.
Hmm, her skin was so warm. So soft. So goddamn touchable his fingertips tingled, making him want to press the advantage of their proximity. A small sip. A little taste. A gentle kiss—naught more, just enough to satisfy his curiosity and put an end to his craving. Henrik huffed. Talk about base instincts . . . and all-consuming want. Yearning played a part too—one Henrik knew he shouldn’t indulge. His desire for her wasn’t right. ’Twas, in truth, all wrong. He shouldn’t be wondering what she tasted like, never mind contemplating the best way to find out. So aye, no question. He needed to pull himself together. Bury his need six feet under. Right now. Before he did something stupid . . . like lose his head and kiss her senseless.
“I understand magic, Cosmina. I have lived with the knowledge of it all my life. You need to tell me.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it again. God grant him patience. She was stuck, mired in mistrust. So afraid to share her ability, she refused to speak of it. Or mayhap, couldn’t. Fear did strange things to people. Sometimes it made them run. Other times it shut them down. Like now with Cosmina. Which meant he was about to get his wish . . . and his first taste. A kiss would distract her long enough to help her fall into trust.
The thought made his heart thump harder. Anticipation burned through him.
Henrik rechecked his position. Andrei moved at a steady clip ahead of him, hand raised, blue flame flicking as he checked for more traps. Shay’s quick footfalls echoed behind him. Perfect. He had just enough time. Dipping his head, Henrik touched his mouth to the corner of hers. She inhaled in soft surprise. He flicked his tongue over her bottom lip. She hummed. His heart hopped like a jackrabbit, leaping all over the place inside his chest and—
Sweet Christ. Bad move.
Henrik knew it the instant he made contact. One kiss would never be enough. She tasted so good, and he was too needy. He bit down on a groan. Goddamn it. What the hell had just happened? His plan had seemed brilliant moments ago. Misdirection via pleasure. Distraction dressed up in gentleness. Quick. Simple. Effective. An excellent strategy rooted in a noble goaclass="underline" procuring the answers he needed. But as she whispered his name and opened her mouth wider, inviting him in, Henrik struggled to hold the line, never mind remember the reason he’d kissed her in the first place.
The tip of her tongue touched his.
Henrik delved deeper, giving her more and . . . oh God, ’twas beyond anything. Better than good. The heat scorched him. Her willingness revived him. Desire ignited in his belly, incinerating right, pushing him toward wrong, tempting him to find a private spot and strip her bare. Henrik growled. Just a touch more. Another heated taste. A little deeper this time. What could it hurt? With his comrades guarding his back, coherence wasn’t an absolute necessity. Not right now. So . . .
To hell with wrong.
He kissed her again. And then again. As he came back a third time, Shay cleared his throat. The sharp sound of disapproval slapped, dragging him back to reality.
With a silent curse, Henrik lifted his mouth from hers. “Sorry.”
“Wrong thing to be sorry for.” She licked her bottom lip as though seeking more of his taste. Which—God forgive him—cranked him a notch tighter. Now all he wanted to do was kiss her again. “Apologize for having me tossed like a sack of grain, not for the kissing.”
Her teasing tone loosened his tension. His mouth curved. “Duly noted.”
Her lips twitched a second before her expression smoothed back into serious lines. “Promise you won’t scoff . . . or laugh . . . and I’ll tell you.”
“Cross my heart.”
Her throat worked as she swallowed. Henrik stayed silent, trying to be patient. Such a difficult thing to do. Time was running out. Colder now, fresh air blew in on wind gusts, flicking at his wet clothes. The tunnel walls flared too, widening by the moment, telling him they neared a junction. Soon the passageway would either change direction or end. Which meant he needed to know about Cosmina’s vision.
Now. Before it ended up being too late.
“Cosmina—”
“A dragon. I saw a dragon. Red scales. Green gaze.” Her eyes drifted closed, cutting off the soft glow of white irises. As the shimmer winked out, she turned her face into his shoulder. “He awaits your call.”
Henrik blinked. His call. Well now, that cinched it. Cosmina wasn’t lying. She was a powerful oracle, one able to predict and see what others could not. Naught else explained how she knew of Tareek . . . and the special bond he shared with the dragon-shifter. The magical connection allowed him to relay messages, summoning Tareek when needed. History stood as a painful reminder—of that day, the moment he’d finally understood how much his mother hated him as she handed him to Halál and Al Pacii.
The memory made him cringe. The aftereffects made him hurt.
Not for himself, but for Tareek and the awful price the dragon-shifter had paid. Imprisonment for flying to his rescue. Damned for years for trying to protect him. Taken down by black magic alongside his brethren, Garren and Cruz, for doing his duty to White Temple and the Order of Orm. Only then had his mother delivered him into slavery. Into the hell of Grey Keep and Halál’s brutal guardianship.
Until Afina had come along.
His younger sister had changed everything, undoing Ylenia’s spells, restoring order to the earthly plane, wielding kindness instead of cruelty to right the wrongs of the past. Each correction continued to bring peace, knitting the fabric of a broken world back together, soothing nature, allowing all living things to grow and thrive. As the fractures created by his mother healed under the force of his sister’s hand, so did his relationship with Tareek.