Page 107

It only came around every few years when the slow-moving orbit of the nearby planet Caladrius conspired to block out the sun for 32 days. That month of darkness was called the Long Night, and it was accompanied by a host of other celestial phenomena, as well as torrential downpours and near-freezing temperatures.

In short, it was a miserable time.

Skye took another draw on the cigar, shaping his mouth into anohand puffing out a ring of smoke. “Do you ever think this island might be cursed?”

“Frequently,” Taly said, touching a finger to the smoke, setting it spinning. “But it’s home.”

“It is.” He rested his head against the swing. “I kind of love it.”

She smiled. “Me too.”

For a while, they were silent, huddled together beneath the blanket, watching the rest of the sun disappear.

It started when Taly gave a soft sigh. Skye held her tighter.

She nestled closer, and he kissed her head. Then her temple. Her cheek.

She turned, and he caught the corner of her mouth.

Her fingers curled in the fabric of his coat, pulling him closer as he cupped her face. Her mouth opened, and his tongue slid in.

The bond rejoiced at their reunion. Everywhere she touched him, everything in him answered—muscle, breath, need. His body began to sing.

His hand slid up her spine before he could stop it, fingers finding the nape of her neck, tangling in her hair. A shiver ran through her, and something low and hungry in him answered.

The world shrank to the space between them, filled only with warmth and breath. The swing creaked as he dragged her closer—and she let him, shifting to straddle his hips.

His pulse slammed.

The blanket slipped from her shoulders, but Skye barely noticed. He was drowning in her. The scent of jasmine and smoke. The way her body fit against his like they’d been carved to match.

“Em,” she whispered.

His name, soft and breathless, from that mouth—he kissed her rougher, deeper, chasing the echo of it on her tongue.

She met him with equal heat, yanking him in by the hair. A groan slipped from him as he dragged his hands down her spine, greedy for more of anything she would give him.

Fuck, she felt good. Too good.

His body knew exactly what it wanted—her in his hands, under him, bare and breathless.

He should stop this. The longer he let it go on, the harder it would be to pull away.

But then she rolled her hips.

Another groan ripped from him. The swing lurched. His fingers flexed against her hips, hard enough that if she had any sense, she’d shove him off.

She didn’t.

She only pressed closer.

Then her teeth caught his bottom lip, and Skye saw stars.

Pull back. Stop.Now. Before he forgot why he needed to.

Instead, his grip tightened. His mouth crushed against hers, desperate now, messy. One hand tangled in her hair, the other slid to her hip, gripping hard as she rocked against him. He matched her rhythm, pulling her tighter, holding her there so he could feel every slow grind.

He was right at the edge—of control, of reason, of whatever line he’d sworn not to cross.