Page 133 of The Moon's Fury

His brows knit together.

“I grew up in a desert, remember? We didn’t have sacred springs to learn in.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“You can’tswimin the sacred springs.” He looked mildly affronted.

“How’d you learn, then?”

A shadow passed over his face, and she wished she hadn’t asked.

“I’ll tell you another time. Take off your clothes. I’ll keep you afloat.”

She debated for only a moment before shedding her clothing. His eyes were riveted to her as he waded to the edge of the pool. The stone floor was cold against her backside as she sat down, but the water was soothingly hot where her legs were submerged.

Desire and mischief mingled in Zarian’s eyes, and it had her frowning.

Without warning, he pulled her into the water, and she yelped, her limbs flailing, but soon she was pressed against his firm chest. Her arms and legs instinctively wrapped around his solid body, her head level with his. She clung to him, frantic gaze fixed on the water.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, arms wrapped tightly around her.

Her heart slowly relaxed. The hot water felt wonderful, lapping against her skin in gentle waves. Zarian walked them backward into the middle of the pool, twirling her around. The friction between them, the heat of the water, was delicious, and when his eyes locked with hers again, they were swirling with heady lust.

Foreheads pressed together, his lips ghosted over hers in the lightest, most maddening touch. She leaned in, seeking more, but he kept retreating—just enough to drive her insane.

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, the sound sinking into her bones. His lips found her earlobe, teeth grazing, tugging until a heavy shudder passed through her. Layna’s head tippedback, a breathy moan slipping past her lips, echoing softly against the walls. He didn’t pull away when she leaned forward and claimed his mouth in a demanding kiss.

Layna lost all sense of time, unwilling to let go of this perfect escape. After exploring the pool, they had found a small ledge where they could sit, still submerged in the soothing heat.

Now, with muscles relaxed and desires sated, they remained entwined, her head nestled against Zarian’s shoulder. His fingers traced slow, idle patterns down her back, each touch sending shivers rippling through her.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, and I’ll give you a kiss,” he murmured.

She smiled against his neck. “You’ll give me a kiss anyway.” She leaned back, eyes finding his hazel gaze. “What are the chances we’ll see Soraya again? Tell me the truth.”

“I won’t let anything in this world keep you apart. She’d find me and thrash me otherwise,” he said, coaxing a smile from her. “Jamil will head to Thessan, too. And it took us a while to reach Tarakshan. They’ll catch up.”

His reassuring words washed over her, but didn’t quite ease the weight on her chest. “I miss her,” she admitted. “We’ve never been apart for so long.”

“Soon, love. I promise.” Her head again found its perch on his shoulder, and she melted into him.

Zarian’s lazy fingers seemingly found purpose, drifting lower and lower with each pass. “Again?” she asked, incredulous.

He nipped her collarbone. “Again.”

When they returned to the inn, Lash was in the stables brushing down Najoom, who was surprisingly allowing it. Mercifully, he only smiled and waved before inviting them to dinner with him and his sister.

“Oh, um, that’s so sweet of you,” she stammered. “The springs left me quite fatigued. You weren’t lying about the climb.”

“That’s all right,” Lash said easily. “Maybe tomorrow!”

52

Jamilkepthishoodlow over his face as he walked through Zolmus, a small Zephyrian town. The buildings were made of gray bricks, lining the dirt path leading into the main square. Townsfolk strolled past him, all thickly cloaked against the brisk morning chill. Some cast wary eyes at his hooded face, but he kept his pace unhurried.

Soraya waited for him back at their campsite—it had taken ages to convince her to let him find Almeer first alone.

Luckily, he knew exactly where to look.

He and Almeer had traveled together, when he ferried him to the Oasis after Almeer was accused of being a Zephyrian spy. Like Soraya, Almeer loved to talk. And he tended to ramble when he was nervous. He’d regaled Jamil with tales of his life in Zephyria, his hand drumming an irritating pattern on his leg the entire journey.