Kingdom of Ash (Throne of Glass #7) by Sarah J. Maas

Her mouth tightened, but not in displeasure.

So Lorcan said softly, “I meant every word.” His heart thundered, so wildly it was a wonder she couldn’t hear it. “And I will until the day I fade into the Afterworld.”

Lorcan didn’t breathe as Elide gently reached out her hand. And interlaced their fingers. “I love you,” she whispered.

He was glad he was lying down. The words would have knocked him to his knees. Even now, he was half inclined to bow before her, the true owner of his ancient, wicked heart.

“I have loved you,” she went on, “from the moment you came to fight for me against Vernon and the ilken.” The light in her eyes stole his breath. “And when I heard you were somewhere on that battlefield, the only thing I wanted was to be able to tell you that. It was the only thing that mattered.”

Once, he might have scoffed. Declared that far bigger things mattered, in this war especially. And yet the hand grasping his … He’d never known anything more precious.

Lorcan ran his thumb over the back of her hand. “I am sorry, Elide. For all of it.”

“I know,” she said softly, and no regret or hurt dimmed her face. Only clear, unwavering calm shone there. The face of the mighty lady she was growing into, and had already become, and who would rule Perranth with wisdom in one hand and compassion in the other.

They stared at each other for minutes. For a blessed eternity.

Then Elide untangled their hands and rose. “I should return to help Yrene.”

Lorcan caught her hand again. “Stay.”

She arched a dark brow. “I’m only going to the Great Hall.”

Lorcan caressed his thumb over the back of her hand once more. “Stay,” he breathed.

For a heartbeat, he thought she’d say no, and was prepared to be fine with it, to accept these last few minutes as more of a gift than he’d deserved.

But then Elide sat on the edge of his cot, right beside his shoulder, and ran a hand through his hair. Lorcan closed his eyes, leaning into the touch, unable to stop the deep purr that rolled through his chest.

She made a low noise of wonder, perhaps something more, and her fingers stroked again.

“Say it,” she whispered, fingers stilling in his hair.

Lorcan opened his eyes, finding her gaze. “I love you.”

She swallowed hard, and Lorcan gritted his teeth as he sat up fully. This close, he had forgotten how much he towered over her. Atop that horse, she had been a force of nature, a defiant storm. His blanket slipped dangerously low, but he let it lie where it pooled in his lap.

He didn’t miss the dip of her stare. Or the long, upward drag of her eyes along his torso. He could almost feel it, lingering on every muscle and scar.

A soft groan came out of him as she continued to look her fill. Asking for things that he sure as hell was in no shape to give her. And that she might not yet be ready to give him, declarations aside.

He was immediately challenged to prove his resolve as Elide ran slightly shaking fingers across the new scar on his abdomen.

“Yrene said you might always have this,” she said, her hand mercifully falling away.

“Then it will be the scar I treasure most.” Fenrys would laugh until he cried to hear him speak this way, but Lorcan didn’t care. To hell with the rest of them.

Another one of those small smiles curved her lips, and Lorcan’s hands tightened in the sheets with the effort it took not to taste that smile, to worship it with his own mouth.

But this new, fragile thing humming between them … He would not risk it for all the world.

Elide, thank the gods, had no such worries. None at all, it seemed, as she lifted a hand to his cheek and ran her thumb along it. Every breath was an effort of control.

Lorcan held absolutely still as she brought her mouth to his. Brushed her lips across his own.

She pulled back. “Rest, Lorcan. I’ll be here again when you wake.”

Anything she asked, he’d give her. Anything at all.

Too shaken by that soft, beautiful kiss to bother with words, he lay back down.

She smiled at his utter obedience, and, as if she couldn’t help herself, leaned in once more.

This kiss lingered. Her mouth traced his, and at the slight pressure of her lips, the gentle request, he answered with his own.

The taste of her threatened to undo him entirely, and the tentative brush of her tongue against his own drew another rolling purr from deep in his chest. But Lorcan let Elide explore him, slowly and sweetly, giving her whatever she asked.

And when her mouth became more insistent, when her breathing turned ragged, he slipped a hand around her neck to cup her nape. She opened for him, and at her low moan, Lorcan thought he’d fly out of his skin.

His hand slipped from her nape to run down her back, savoring the warm, unbreakable body beneath the layers of clothes. Elide arched into the touch, another of those small noises coming from her. As if she’d been just as starved for him.

But Lorcan made himself pull away. Made himself withdraw his hand from her lower back. Panting slightly, sharing breath, he said onto her mouth, “Later. Go help the others.”

Dark eyes glazed with desire met his, and Lorcan adjusted the fall of the blanket over his lap. “Go help the others,” he repeated. “I’ll be here when you’re ready to sleep.”

The unspoken request lingered, and Elide pulled back, studying him once more.