Shuddering, she turned on her heel and headed home.
Sam didn’t return until dinner.
Celaena was sprawled on the couch before the roaring fireplace, book in hand, when Sam strode into the apartment. His hood still covered half of his face, and the hilt of the sword strapped to his back glinted in the orange light of the room. As he locked the door behind him, she caught the dull gleam of the gauntlets strapped to his forearms—thick, embroidered leather that concealed hidden daggers. He moved with such precise efficiency and controlled power that she blinked. Sometimes it was so easy to forget that the young man she shared the apartment with was also a trained, ruthless killer.
“I found a client.” He pulled off his hood and leaned against the door, his arms crossed over his broad chest.
Celaena shut the book she’d been gobbling down and set it on the couch. “Oh?”
His brown eyes were bright, though his face was unreadable. “They’ll pay. A lot. And they want to keep it from reaching the Assassins’ Guild’s ears. There’s even a contract in it for you.”
“Who’s the client?”
“I don’t know. The man I spoke to had the usual disguises—hood, unremarkable clothing. He could have been acting on behalf of someone else.”
“Why do they want to avoid using the Guild?” She moved to perch on the arm of the couch. The distance between her and Sam felt too large, too full of lightning.
“Because they want me to kill Ioan Jayne and his second-in-command, Rourke Farran.”
Celaena stared at him. “Ioan Jayne.” The biggest Crime Lord in Rifthold.
Sam nodded.
A roaring filled her ears. “He’s too well-guarded,” she said. “And Farran … That man is a psychopath. He’s a sadist.”
Sam approached her. “You said that in order to move to another city, we need money. And since you’re insisting on paying off the Guild, then we really need money. So unless you want to wind up as thieves, I suggest we take it.”
She had to tilt her head back to look at him. “Jayne is dangerous.”
“Then it’s good that we’re the best, isn’t it?” Though he gave her a lazy smile, she could see the tension in his shoulders.
“We should find another contract. There’s bound to be someone else.”
“You don’t know that. And no one else would pay this much.” He named the figure, and Celaena’s brows rose. They’d be very comfortable after that. They could live anywhere.
“You’re sure you don’t know who the client is?”
“Are you looking for excuses to say no?”
“I’m trying to make sure that we’re safe,” she snapped. “Do you know how many people have tried to take out Jayne and Farran? Do you know how many of them are still alive?”
Sam ran a hand through his hair. “Do you want to be with me?”
“What?”
“Do you want to be with me?”
“Yes.” Right now, that was all she wanted.
A half smile tugged at one corner of his lips. “Then we’ll do this, and we’ll have enough money to tie up our loose ends in Rifthold and set ourselves up somewhere else on the continent. If you asked, I’d still leave tonight without giving Arobynn or the Guild a copper, but you’re right: I don’t want to spend the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders. It should be a clean break. I want that for us.” Her throat tightened, and she looked toward the fire. Sam hooked a finger under her chin and tilted her head up to him again. “So will you go after Jayne and Farran with me?”
He was so beautiful—so full of all the things that she wanted, all that she hoped for. How had she never noticed that until this year? How had she spent so long hating him?
“I’ll think about it,” she rasped. It wasn’t just bravado. She did need to think about it. Especially if their targets were Jayne and Farran.
Sam’s smile grew and he leaned down to brush a kiss to her temple. “Better than a no.”
Their breath mingled. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier today.”
“An apology from Celaena Sardothien?” His eyes danced with light. “Do I dream?”
She scowled, but Sam kissed her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, opening her mouth to his, and a low growl escaped from him as their tongues met. Her hands tangled in the strap that held his sword against his back, and she withdrew long enough to unclasp the scabbard buckle across his chest.
His sword clattered to the wooden floor behind them. Sam looked her in the eyes again, and it was enough for her to grab him closer. He kissed her thoroughly, lazily, as if he had a lifetime of kisses to look forward to.
She liked that. A lot.
He slid one arm around her back and the other beneath her knees, sweeping her up in a fluid, graceful movement. Though she’d never tell him, she practically swooned.
He carried her from the living room and into the bedroom, gently setting her down on the bed. He withdrew only long enough to remove the deadly gauntlets from his wrists, followed by his boots, cloak, jerkin, and shirt beneath. She took in his golden skin and muscled chest, the slender scars that peppered his torso, her heart beating so fast she could hardly breathe.
He was hers. This magnificent, powerful creature was hers.
Sam’s mouth found hers again, and he eased her farther onto the bed. Down, down, his clever hands exploring every inch of her until she was on her back and he braced himself on his forearms to hover over her. He kissed her neck, and she arched up into him as he ran his hand down the plane of her torso, unbuttoning her tunic as he went. She didn’t want to know where he had learned to do these things. Because if she ever learned the names of those girls …
Her breath hitched as he reached the last button and pulled her out of the jacket. He looked down at her body, his breathing ragged. They had gone further than this before, but there was a question in his eyes—a question written over every inch of his body.
“Not tonight,” she whispered, her cheeks flaring with heat. “Not yet.”
“I’m in no rush,” he said, bending down to graze his nose along her shoulder.
“It’s just …” Gods above, she should stop talking. She didn’t owe him an explanation, and he didn’t push it with her, but … “If I’m only going to do this once, then I want to enjoy every step.” He understood what she meant by this—this relationship between them, this bond that was forming, so unbreakable and unyielding that it made the entire axis of her world shift toward him. That terrified her more than anything.
“I can wait,” he said thickly, kissing her collarbone. “We have all the time in the world.”
Maybe he was right. And spending all the time in the world with Sam …
That was a treasure worth paying anything for.
CHAPTER
3
Dawn crept into their room, filling it with golden light that caught in Sam’s hair and made it shine like bronze.
Propped on one elbow, Celaena watched him sleep.
His bare torso was still gloriously tanned from the summer—suggesting days spent training in one of the courtyards of the Keep, or maybe lounging on the banks of the Avery. Scars of varying lengths were scattered across his back and shoulders—some of them slender and even, some of them thicker and jagged. A life spent training and battling … His body was a map of his adventures, or proof of what growing up with Arobynn Hamel was like.