The Assassin's Blade by Sarah J. Maas

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.

She ran a finger down the groove of his spine. She didn’t want to see another scar added to his flesh. She didn’t want this life for him. He was better than that. Deserved better.

When they moved, maybe they couldn’t leave behind death and killing and all that came with it—not at first, but someday, far in the future, perhaps …

She brushed the hair from his eyes. Someday, they would both lay down their swords and daggers and arrows. And by leaving Rifthold, by leaving the Guild, they’d take the first step toward that day, even if they had to keep working as assassins for a few more years at least.

Sam’s eyes opened, and, finding her watching him, he gave her a sleepy smile.