Page 69 of Scorched Earth (Dark Shores #4)

“And when you see Teriana, tell her I love her.” Tears pricked in Lydia’s eyes because it felt so profoundly wrong that she wasn’t going to her friend’s rescue.

That she was, for all intents and purposes, turning her back on her best friend in favor of other priorities.

“No matter what has happened, she is my sister until the end.”

Bait nodded, then clapped Killian on the shoulder. “Take care of her.” Then he leaned closer and muttered something in Killian’s ear, earning a soft laugh and a thanks.

“Fast winds and smooth seas,” Bait said to Vane, then he dived off the ship, disappearing into the black waters.

“The winds we have thanks to Baird,” the captain said. “If the seas remain our friend, we will be in Serlania in less than a week, the Six willing.”

Lydia inclined her head, watching as Vane retreated into the quarters he was sharing with his first mate while Malahi had his cabin. “What did Bait say to you?”

“That instead of a hammock with the rest of the crew, we can have his room,” Killian replied. “Let’s go have a look.”

With a flush of anticipation, Lydia lifted her bag over her shoulder and followed him inside the ship to where the quarters for the higher-ranking crew members were located.

Bait’s quarters were tiny, little more than a narrow bed, a wardrobe, a washstand, and a sea chest. There was a distinct lack of personal touch, which made sense given that this ship wasn’t Bait’s home, but Lydia felt the hollowness of it.

Knew that for all his bluster and focus on Teriana, Bait grieved his absence from the Quincense and her crew, whom she knew were a family to him.

Setting her belongings in the corner, Lydia poured water into a basin, distinctly aware that this was the first time since they’d been in Obarri that she and Killian had been alone.

The first time they’d had any form of privacy since she’d mastered her mark and removed her gloves, and her nerves warred with her anticipation as she washed her hands and face.

The former won the battle, and she turned and blurted out, “What did Ceenah say to you before she left?”

Killian was busy checking the lock on the door, but he went still at the question. “She had a few thoughts about you,” he finally said. Instead of elaborating, he unbuckled his sword and put it near the bed, then removed his coat and hung it on a hook.

“Are you going to tell me?” Uneasiness added to the mix of emotions running laps in her stomach.

“She said you didn’t just draw upon the life nearby to heal me.” Killian went to the porthole and looked out at the night. “She said you drew upon all the life of Reath, and she’s never seen that before. Didn’t know it was possible.”

In her mind’s eye, Lydia saw the glowing clouds of mist that had surged toward her, far more than she’d needed to heal Killian’s wound. She’d known what she’d done, but not the extent of it, and Lydia wasn’t sure how she felt about being different from other healers.

“Ceenah thinks it’s because Hegeria has touched you twice.

First to mark you and then again to aid you against the Corrupter, and that it has given you more power than other healers,” Killian said.

“Her fear is that your strength will only make the Seventh work harder to tempt you, because your power can do as much harm as good.”

She bit the insides of her cheeks. “Did she say anything else?”

“Yes. But it was for my ears, not yours.”

Curiosity bit at her insides, but Lydia left it alone as she watched him pull off his shirt and hang it on the hook with his coat. Crossing to the washstand, he began to scrub away the dirt and sand of their journey across the desert.

Realizing she was staring, Lydia dug her comb out of her bag. She unfastened the tie holding the end of her braid and began to unravel the lengths, sand coming loose as she did. But she scarcely noticed, for it was impossible to tear her eyes from Killian’s naked back.

The lamplight cast shadows across his broad shoulders and tapered waist, taut muscles testament to a lifetime of trials and training, the long grueling weeks on the road ensuring that there was not a spare ounce of flesh on him.

Her eyes roved over the scars from battles, the white lines stark against his olive skin, which had grown darker in the unforgiving sun of Anukastre.

Without his belt, his trousers hung low on his hips, and as he twisted to scrub the washcloth across his shoulder, the lamplight illuminated his stomach, the hard V of muscle drawing her eyes downward.

Lydia busied herself with combing out the tangles of her hair.

It was nothing she hadn’t seen before, both in her mind and in the flesh, yet there had always been something that had stood between them. First Malahi, then Lydia’s lack of control of her mark, then the presence of their companions.

But now? There were no obstacles between them, yet Lydia felt paralyzed by uncertainty over how to claim the moment she’d dreamed of for so long.

Wait to see what he does, her nervous mind cautioned even as her heart told her that Killian would not instigate.

How could he, given what she’d put him through?

Either by shoving him away or trying to kill him.

Killian wasn’t afraid of what she’d do to him, Lydia knew that, but he was afraid of the consequences to her if he pushed too far.

And she desperately wanted him to push all the way.

Which meant she needed to take the first step.

“When I returned to Mudaire after Alder’s Ford, I missed you so much.

” She toyed with her comb. “I used to imagine you coming into the temple to find me. The sound of your boots coming down the hall to my room. What you’d say.

What you’d do.” She lifted her head to meet his gaze.

“What it would feel like to be yours in every possible way.”

She saw Killian’s throat move as he swallowed, blindly setting the cloth behind him on the washstand, though he said nothing.

“I swear I imagined being reunited with you in every possible way, which means little given that I know nothing about what happens in such moments,” Lydia said softly.

“Yet when we finally found each other, it was nothing like my dreams. Instead, it was battle and blood and fighting for our lives, the distance between us vanquished only to be replaced by what has oftentimes felt like insurmountable obstacles. All of which we’ve conquered, and though I know no more than I did in those cold dark nights alone in my room in that tower in Mudaire, what I want is the same.

” She hesitated, then said, “I want you, Killian. All of you. And I want you to have all of me.”

Killian made a low noise, then dropped to his knees before her, his hands on her hips. “You are my everything, Lydia.” He pulled her to the edge of the bed. “There is nothing I wouldn’t give you, least of all myself. I love you.”

Her heart was beating so hard it threatened to tear from her chest, and Lydia tangled her fingers in his dark hair, the silky strands longer than he normally wore it. “I love you,” she whispered. “But for all my imaginings of this moment, I… I don’t know anything. I need you to show me how.”

Killian let out a choked laugh, then lowered his head to rest it against her thigh. “What makes you think that I know more than you?”

She bit her lip. “I thought…”

“My reputation with women is grossly exaggerated, Lydia. I’ve never…” He exhaled a shaky breath. “That’s what I was asking Agrippa about when we were captured by Xadrian, because he knows a lot about… Well, suffice it to say that he knows a lot about a lot of things.”

“Oh, gods.” Her face burned. “I’m terrified to think of what he had to say.”

“He said, ‘You two are forever, which means there will be countless times. But only one first time , so don’t rush it.’”

Forever.

“Oh.” Lydia frowned and caught hold of his chin, lifting his face. “But that’s not all he told you, was it?”

Killian’s mouth turned up in a half smile, even as his eyes darkened, his hands tightening on her hips. “No, it wasn’t.”

He removed her spectacles and set them next to the washstand.

Catching her by the waist, he lifted her to her feet, then his hand curved around the back of her head as he kissed her.

Softly at first, and it gave Lydia the chance to do what she’d wanted for so long, which was to touch him.

His skin was smooth beneath her fingertips, and she trailed them over the hard curves and valleys of the muscles forming his shoulders.

His arms. His back. Downward until they snagged on the waist of his trousers, stopping there half for nerves and half for the intensity of his kiss, which was soft no longer.

His tongue parted her lips, and Lydia gasped as it stroked into her mouth, stoking the heat in her core.

Then he abandoned her lips, kissing down her jaw, then her throat, his fingers catching the hem of her tunic and lifting it over her head, casting it aside.

The air in the room was cool, and with only a thin camisole to cover her torso, Lydia’s skin pebbled.

All thoughts of the cold vanished from her head as his hands drifted over her sides, his mouth raining kisses on her collarbone and shoulders, then down farther still, claiming the peak of her breast through the thin silk.

Lydia gasped, her knees shuddering at the sensation, only her grip on his shoulders keeping her from losing her balance.

He moved to the other breast, the heat of his mouth making her ache, though nothing could prepare her for him lifting the camisole over her head and the feel of his tongue against her naked flesh.

“If you want me to stop, just tell me to stop,” Killian said as he moved down the flat expanse of her stomach, tongue catching on her navel and making her shudder.

“Don’t stop,” she breathed, for her imagination had fallen far short of reality, every part of her quivering with the need for more.

Killian unfastened her belt, and her trousers slid over her hips to pool at her feet.

She stepped on the heels of her boots to drag them off, kicking leather and fabric away as he dropped to his knees before her.

His breath was hot just above the top of the undergarments, his hands equally so as his fingers stroked her legs before catching on that last scrap of clothing she wore and tugging it down, leaving her naked before him.

“You’re so beautiful.” Killian looked up at her with reverence. “The bravest woman on Reath, and you are mine.”

“Yours,” she repeated, running her fingers over his high cheekbones and strong jaw, stubble rough beneath her fingertips, face so perfect that it made her breath catch. “Forever.”

He kissed one of her hipbones and then the other, pausing a heartbeat before his hands closed around her thighs and his mouth claimed her as his.

A sob tore from her throat; there was no room for thoughts, only sensation. Her hand braced against the wall for balance as she drowned in the feeling of finally having what her heart longed for. In finally erasing all distance between them, leaving nothing behind but breath and touch and love.

When she crested the edge, pleasure she’d never known possible crashing over her like a wave, the strength of her knees finally abandoned her, and Lydia collapsed into Killian’s arms. Clung to his neck while she remembered how to breathe, her skin slowly cooling where it wasn’t pressed to his.

Yet no part of her felt sated. Not with Killian still half dressed, his breath ragged against her temple, his desire pressing against her through his clothes. For all her inexperience, Lydia knew enough to move against him, her heart skipping as Killian groaned.

“I want to know what you want,” she breathed, trailing her tongue around the rim of his ear and feeling him shudder.

“You.”

She trailed her nails down his back, tracing the hard lines of muscle and old scars. “Be more specific.”

“Lydia…”

A smile curved onto her lips, because she knew that he was warring with the propriety that was engrained with him. She kissed him, stroking her tongue over his, then murmured, “Tell me.”

Propriety lost the war, and his dark eyes locked with hers. “I want to be in you. I want to claim every part of you.”

Lydia’s heart accelerated with anticipation, and planting her feet on the floor, she rose to her feet, drawing Killian with her.

She kissed his throat, his chest, struck by how in control she felt despite being so small relative to his muscled bulk.

His fingers tangled in her hair as she unfastened the laces of his trousers and drew them down, Killian kicking them aside so that he was naked before her.

Nothing between them, and there never would be again.

She took hold of him, her breath catching at the heat of his skin. “Show me how.”

Killian’s hand wrapped around hers, and desire pooled in her core as his head tilted back at her touch, pulse throbbing in his throat. “Oh, gods, Lydia.”

Her skin felt on fire with need, her toes curling against the rough wood floors. Every part of her wanting more. Wanting everything.

She pushed him down onto the bed, then straddled him, her knees to either side of his narrow hips. “I want this,” she said between kisses. “I want to give you this.”

Killian’s strong hands gripped her hips, moving her. Lifting her.

A whimper pulled from her lips as they came together, kisses desperate and frantic with a need that surpassed the need to breathe, nothing mattering but each other.

“Don’t stop,” she sobbed, her body teetering toward climax again. His teeth scraped her throat, the bite of pain making her dig in her nails.

Her darkness was still there. The need to take that would be with her all her life, Killian’s life coating her hands and daring her to claim it.

Yet rather than tearing away from her, Killian only flipped her onto her back, his hands pinioning hers to the mattress. “You’re mine, Lydia,” he growled. “No one else’s. Not ever.”

A wave of pleasure rushed through her, driving away darker needs as her body shuddered beneath him. Killian groaned, his fingers tightening, her name on his lips as he pressed his cheek to hers.

There was no sound but that of their breath and the creak of the ship.

“Are you all right?” he asked, lifting his head to meet her gaze.

Lydia smiled up at him, the love of her life. The one she trusted above all else. “Yes.”

Killian laid her down on the narrow bed, curling around her back and then pulling the blanket over them both.

The Kairense rocked on the swells, the rhythmic slap of the waves against the hull lulling her to sleep.

Lydia’s last thought was that now that they were together, there was no power on Reath that would separate them.