Page 48 of The Sol Crown (Fractured Lights #1)

His hands tighten on me in warning. “Red, I don’t ever want to hear another man’s name on your lips while you’re in my arms like this.” He takes a deep breath as if trying to calm himself. “I quite like Sam, I’d hate to have to kill him.”

His words are jealous, rough, but then he brushes his lips softly across my temple, tender and sweet, completely at odds with his tone.

I laugh, body trembling against his, rubbing against him, and he curses under his breath.

“You were sent straight from the Gods to test me, woman.”

His voice is a growl now, and his hands tighten around me for a heartbeat like he’s at war with himself, before he slowly, painfully eases me down to the ground.

The way he sets me down—so careful, like I’m breakable—makes me bite my lip.

His restraint is maddening.

But Gods, it’s beautiful.

And somehow, impossibly, it makes me want him even more.

Still pressed against him, I don’t move away. Instead, I slide my hands from his shoulders down his chest, dragging my fingers lightly over the muscles beneath his damp shirt. His breath stutters.

“I can wait,” I whisper, lifting my chin. “But you better be worth it.”

A flicker of amusement dances behind the swirling storm in his eyes, and a cocky smirk rises on his lips. Until I step back just far enough to pick my towel up off the floor, bending right before him, then tossing it over a nearby chair without another word.

His jaw tightens, cocky expression now gone.

“Elina…”

I turn and walk toward the bed, and when my knees hit the edge, I glance over my shoulder to see his eyes glued to my body.

I crawl up the silk covers from the foot of the bed to the centre, completely bare and fully aware of the effect I’m having. Drawing back the throw, I settle in and pat the space next to me.

“Coming?”

He exhales like I’ve knocked the air clean from his lungs. Then, without a word, he strips off his boots and shirt, nods once, and follows.

He climbs in beside me, lying on his back, body tense like he’s not sure what to do with himself. So, I decide for him. I press in close, tucking myself against his side, arm across his chest, cheek resting just above his heart. One naked leg slung across his trouser-covered ones.

“Sent to test me,” he mutters again, and I huff a small laugh.

The tension between us still lingers, humming just beneath the skin, but it’s no longer urgent. It’s settled. Sated in its own way.

His arm curls around me, his hand wide and warm against my back, and he sighs like he’s finally allowed to exhale.

I speak first, my voice soft against his skin. “Tell me something about you.”

“What do you want to know?”

His fingers drift to the nape of my neck, toying with loose strands of hair, twirling one, releasing it, and then finding another.

“Everything. Anything.”

I want him, and I want to know him. Any drop he offers, I’ll drink like it’s the only thing keeping me alive.

“I’ve never told you the real reason I call you Red,” he murmurs against the top of my head, his voice a low vibration I feel more than hear.

“Oh?” I ask softly, careful not to sound too eager. I’m afraid that if I push, if I want too much, he’ll retreat.

He doesn’t.

“The first time I saw you was at army registration,” he says. “You were too busy eye-fucking me to notice they were calling your name.”

I gasp and swat his side. “Was not!”

His grin brushes against my hair. “Do you want to hear the story or not?”

“Fine,” I huff, leaning into him. “Carry on.”

“Thank you,” he says, mock solemn. I can feel his chest shaking with laughter beneath my cheek.

“So, as I was saying. There you were, checking me out, undressing me with your eyes.”

I bite back a smile, keeping quiet now .

“You didn’t hear your name being called until Deacon nudged you. And then”—his voice softens, turns almost reverent—“this blush started crawling up from your chest. It spread across your cheeks, your nose. A soft pinkish red.”

He exhales a breath that ghosts through my hair.

“One of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”

My heart stutters. I close my eyes, my face against his bare skin, trying to steady the heat rising through me, wondering if it’s blooming across my cheeks now, too.

“So, that’s why I call you Red,” he murmurs. “And I’ll spend whatever remains of my life trying to coax that blush back to your cheeks.”

The words hit me like a soft blow—tender, deliberate, disarming.

I don’t know how to respond. What do you say to something like that? To the kind of quiet promise tucked inside his voice?

So I do what I’ve always done. I deflect. Redirect.

“Now…” I say, my throat tighter than I want it to be. “Tell me something about you .”

He’s quiet for a moment, thinking, considering what to share. “I grew up near the border. My mother died when I was young. I don’t get along with my father. And… I have a twin sister.” He lists them like simple facts, a checklist he’s ticking off one by one.

I lift my head to look at him. “I’m sorry about your mother,” I say, truly meaning it. Mine isn’t dead, but she’s gone too, been gone for too long. That kind of loss… never stops hurting.

“It was a long time ago.”

His voice is neutral whilst his fingers trace soft patterns across my back, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“A twin sister, though?” I smile, trying to keep the moment light. “I bet that was fun growing up.”

He scoffs. “She was a pain in my ass.” But his tone is full of warmth, and when I glance up, there’s a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Still, there’s nothing we wouldn’t do for each other.”

“That’s like me and Deacon,” I murmur, resting my head back on his chest. “I’d die for him. And he’d do the same for me.”

“Then you understand,” he says, and there’s something in his voice. Relief, maybe. Thankful that I seem to understand his unconditional love for his sibling.

“I grew up here, in the castle,” I offer, eyelids already starting to droop, but I don’t want to stop talking to him yet, to let this moment go.

“I know, Elina. I can’t go five minutes without some guy talking about you, asking about you, or looking at you like they’re imagining being with you.” His voice is sharp, and I frown.

“Is that jealousy I hear, Stone Carlisle?” I lift my head, resting my chin on the top of my hand as I stare at him in shock. “The great ladies’ man himself, jealous over me?”

He scoffs, “I’m jealous of people just breathing the same air as you.” My breath catches. “And you? You, my little Red, have no idea the chaos you cause just by existing.”

His eyes are fixed on mine, and the intensity behind them steals my next breath.

“The thought of someone else having you.” He pauses to take a deep breath. “Well, that’s enough to drive me to the brink of madness.”

I roll my eyes. “Well, I’ll have you know, I haven’t touched anyone else since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

Fuck.

I didn’t mean to say that.

But Stone’s mouth curls at the corner, smug and slow, and he suddenly looks far too pleased with himself. I slap his chest, trying to wipe the expression off his face.

“Pretend you didn’t hear that. It was a lie. I just had some guy leave my room before you walked in.”

He laughs—a real one, deep and unrestrained—and the sound settles something inside me.

I curl back into him, trying to hide the blush on my cheeks, but he strokes a finger over it like a secret only he gets to touch. A reminder of why he calls me Red.

We don’t speak again, both just content to be in each other’s presence.

But, as the silence deepens and his heart beats a steady rhythm beneath my ear, I let myself drift—safe, warm, and exactly where I want to be.