House of Flame and Shadow (Crescent City #3) by Sarah J. Maas

“Now?” Her gaze dipped to his mouth.

His cock tightened at that gaze. He said, voice near guttural, “Now I don’t fucking care who you are, so long as you’re mine.” Her eyes shot to his, again full of surprise. “Because I’m yours, Day. I’m fucking yours.”

Her face crumpled. And he couldn’t stand the sight of her crying, the relief and joy. So he leaned forward, bringing his mouth to hers.

The kiss didn’t start sweetly. It was openmouthed—teeth clacking, tongues clashing. Her hands wrapped around his neck, and he hauled her to him, pulling her flush against his chest.

Yes, yes, yes.

His hand coasted over her ass and he squeezed, drawing a moan from deep in her throat. She pulled her mouth from his, though. “Ruhn.”

He stilled. “What?” If she wanted to stop, he’d stop. Whatever she wanted, he’d give her.

She ran her fingers over his pecs. He shuddered as she asked, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he breathed, nipping at her bottom lip. He guided her toward the bed, then onto it. She traced her finger over where his lip ring had been ripped out. Then his brow ring.

“I couldn’t stand it,” she whispered, putting her mouth to his brow. “I couldn’t …” She began shaking. He tightened his arms around her.

“I’m here,” he said. “We made it.”

She trembled harder, as if all that she had experienced and done were now breaking free in aftershocks.

“I’m here,” he said again, and leaned down to kiss the side of her neck. “I’m here.” He kissed below her ear. Her hands came up, caressing a line down his back. She stopped shaking. “I’m here,” he said, kissing the base of her throat. Tugging down the zipper on the front of her tactical bodysuit.

She wasn’t wearing a bra. Her breasts, lush, high palmfuls tipped in rosy pink, spilled out into his hands. He swore, and couldn’t stop himself from dipping his head to suck one into his mouth.

She inhaled sharply, and the sound was kindling to his cock. He grazed his teeth over her nipple, tugging lightly.

Her hands wandered around his waist, aiming toward his front, and—yeah, not happening. He wanted to explore first. Not removing his mouth from that delicious breast, he grabbed her wrists in one hand and pinned them above her head, settling more firmly between her legs.

She flinched.

It was barely more than a flicker, but he felt it. The slight tightening in her body. He halted, raised his head. Looked down at her. At the hands he’d pinned—

That fucker.

Ruhn let go immediately.

He’d kill him. He’d rip Pollux limb from limb, feather by feather for putting that flinch there, for hurting her—

Her eyes softened. She laid her palms on either side of his face and whispered, “Just an old memory.”

One that shouldn’t be there. One that Pollux had put there.

“Ruhn.”

He took her wrists in his hands and gently pressed a kiss to each one. Then laid them on her chest, hands over her heart, kissing her as he did so.

“Ruhn,” she said again, but he sprawled out beside her. Looped an arm over her middle.

“Stay here with me tonight,” he said quietly. A tendril of his shadows curled around the flames of the sconces, dimming them. “No sex. Just … stay with me.”

He could feel her eyes on him in the dark. But then she moved—zippers hissing as she shrugged out of her clothes. He tugged off his pants, nestling under the blankets.

Then her warm, soft, lush body curled into his.

And yeah, he wanted to be inside of her so badly he had to grind his teeth, but her scent soothed him. Steadied him. He slid a hand over her bare waist, tucking her in close, her breasts flush against his chest. His hand drifted lower, to her ass, and all it would have taken was a shift in angle and he would have been between her legs.

But this wasn’t about sex. And as their breathing evened out, as they stared at each other in the near-dark, he’d never felt more seen.

Eventually, her eyes closed. Her breathing deepened.

But Ruhn lay awake, holding her tight, and did not let go until dawn.



* * *



“Is that a laser?” Tharion shouted as rock crumbled from where the light had sliced into it, the cave-in now cutting off access to the two Fae Kings, Flynn and Dec, and the Murder Twins. And a bunch of ghouls. But Bryce ordered, “The river!”

“What?” Hunt barked. Bryce was already running for the dark, rushing water.

“Jump in,” Bryce called, starlight bobbing with each step.

“Teleport us across!” Hunt countered. Flynn and Declan had been stranded on the other side of that cave-in, and they needed to figure out how to get them away from the kings and the twins—

“Jump in now,” Bryce ordered, and didn’t wait before she ran for the ledge. Hunt grabbed for her, to stop her from this pure insanity—

She leapt. Right into the river. He could have sworn the starlight glowed brighter as she did, as if agreeing with her decision.

Then the light in her chest went out.

And in the sudden dark, with only Hunt’s lightning flickering around them, the ghouls began to hiss, drawing nearer, as if coming through the rock itself.

“River,” Tharion said, grabbing Sathia and racing for it. He dove, and she shrieked as he dragged her with him. The roar of the river swallowed the sound—and them—in half a second.