Page 49 of The Sol Crown (Fractured Lights #1)

T he next morning, I instinctively stretch out like a cat, only to be stopped by the heavy weight draped over my waist.

I glance down, and heat flushes through me as I take in the sight of Stone’s tattooed arm wrapped firmly around me. My back is tucked against his chest, his breath a steady warmth in my hair. And his cock, hard and insistent, is nestled right against my ass.

It takes everything in me not to push back into him. Gods, I want to. But he’s sleeping so peacefully, and I don’t want to ruin it.

So instead, I relax, letting myself simply exist in this moment where I’m naked, warm, and wrapped up in Stone Carlisle. A grin tugs at my lips, and I bite it back, revelling in the quiet thrill of waking up like this.

But I want to see him. I want to look at his sleeping face and let my eyes wander over his features without the weight of him watching me in return.

Carefully, I lift his arm and begin to turn, slow and gentle. He doesn’t stir, and I exhale a soft sigh of relief as I shift to face him. His arm finds its way around me again, his hand resting lightly behind my back.

We’re close. So close I can feel the faint puff of his breath brushing across my mouth.

His face in sleep is softer, the hard lines smoothed away. His lashes are thick and dark, fanned across his cheeks. His lips, those soft, pillowy lips that have wrecked me, are slightly parted.

And his nose… I spot a few freckles dusting the bridge, so light I’ve never noticed them before. They make him look younger. Less hardened. I feel warmth rise that I get to see him like this.

My gaze drops to his chest, and resting above his heart is the silver pendant he never takes off, glinting in a beam of morning light that has escaped between the drawn curtains in my room.

Curious, I reach out, my fingers hovering toward the chain, wanting to finally know what it depicts.

But just as my fingertips near it, his hand snaps up and catches my wrist.

I freeze.

Then, without opening his eyes, he draws my palm to his lips and presses a soft kiss against it, his thumb brushing along my inner wrist in slow, lazy strokes.

When his eyes open, I’m completely caught.

The South Sea stares back at me, swirling and fathomless. In his left eye, I swear I can see a silver crescent, a sliver of moonlight glinting in the ocean depths.

And I forget how to breathe. Don’t think I want to remember.

“Morning,” he murmurs, voice rough and thick with sleep, his thumb still brushing soft circles on my hand.

“Sorry,” I whisper. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

A slow, smug smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “You were staring.”

I scoff, cheeks warming. “Was not.”

“I don’t mind, Red. Stare away.”

“As if your ego needs to be any bigger.” I roll my eyes, and before I can blink, he leans in and flicks my nose.

“Each time you roll those golden eyes at me, all I want to do is bend you over and spank you.”

I suck in a breath, lightning shooting through me.

“I’d like to see you try,” I shoot back, voice steady, even though my core clenches at the thought of his hand on me—hard, claiming, leaving his mark.

“Bold words,” he murmurs, glancing down at our tangled limbs. “Especially for someone naked in my arms.”

“Oh, I can leave if you don’t like it.” I start to shift, letting the covers fall as I move to rise, only for him to lunge, grabbing me around the waist and dragging me back down with a low growl.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he warns, rolling me beneath him in one smooth movement. His chest is warm over mine.

I nestle my face against the side of his neck and bite down, not hard enough to truly hurt, but enough. His moan vibrates through both of us, and I feel his control falter.

“Gods, Elina. Don’t test me,” he growls, voice dark and full of warning, though his hands only tighten around me. His hips press forward, grinding once. Twice. And it’s enough to send a shiver down my spine. “It’s taking every ounce of willpower not to taste each inch of your skin.”

“What’s stopping you?” I whisper, my lips brushing his pulse. I press a kiss there, then trace my tongue lightly where his neck meets his shoulder.

He stills—utterly, completely—and I feel the storm beneath his skin roll closer to the surface.

But instead of surrendering to it, he pulls back just far enough to meet my gaze.

“Because if I start,” he says hoarsely, “I won’t stop. And in exactly five minutes, we’re due in the Great Hall for breakfast before combat training all day.”

My lips curl into a slow, wicked smile. “I can think of a better use for your mouth than eating breakfast.”

He groans, a sound deep and wrecked, and buries his face in the curve of my neck.

“You’re killing me,” he mutters, voice muffled by my skin, and I laugh, arms winding around him.

We settle like that, tangled together. Breathing each other in.

His fingers begin to trace idle lines down my side, and I match my breathing to his, heart ticking in a quiet rhythm.

“I could get used to this,” he murmurs against my shoulder.

“Yeah,” I say softly, smiling into his skin. “Me too.”

And then my stomach grumbles, loud and insistent.

He pulls back, laughing low and full of warmth. “Come on, Red. Let’s get you fed.”

“Fine,” I mutter, throwing the covers off. “Food first, but only because I need the strength to put you on your ass again in training.”

Stone tsks, already grinning. “Please. I’ll have you on your back again in no time.”

And with that, he rolls off the bed in one fluid motion and disappears into the bathroom, leaving me breathless, flushed, and very much on my back. Exactly as promised.

Gods help me.

* * *

The Great Hall is already half-full when I walk in, the scrape of chairs and clatter of plates echoing off the stone walls. Sunlight streams through the tall windows, casting golden light across the long wooden tables. People are talking, laughing—it’s a normal morning for them.

None of them know I woke up wrapped in Stone Carlisle’s arms.

And now I don’t know what to do with myself.

I grab some food and slide into my usual seat, smiling at Junie across from me as she launches into a story about her day yesterday. I try to focus, nodding along, but my gaze flicks toward the far end of the hall.

Stone has just entered, his damp hair pushed back, shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows.

Ridiculously gorgeous.

He draws the attention of nearly every girl in the room, and while I’d usually roll my eyes, now I just want to launch my fork like a throwing star to keep their stares at bay.

His eyes scan the hall once and then find me.

Gods. My heart stutters, that same traitorous flutter it always does around him. I quickly look away, focusing far too intently on adding honey to my oats.

We hadn’t talked about this. About how to exist outside the safety of my room. About what we are now.

About whether there’s even a ‘ we’ after spending only one night in each other’s arms.

Junie frowns at me.

“You good?” she asks.

“Mm-hmm.” I hum around a mouthful of porridge just as a shadow falls across the table.

Stone drops into the seat beside me, and my heartbeat picks up. He lifts one tattooed arm and drapes it casually around my shoulders, fingers brushing the curve of my neck. Then he leans in and presses a soft kiss to my temple.

So… I guess I don’t need to wonder whether he wants to keep this thing between us a secret.

Junie’s mouth drops open, eyes flicking between me and Stone in complete shock.

Stone, for his part, simply removes his arm and starts digging into his giant plate of food like nothing happened .

I lean over and lift my coffee cup to my lips with both hands, using the mug to hide my smile as I take a slow sip.

“What the actual fuck?” Junie finally says, blinking at me just as Trent plonks himself into the seat beside her.

“What did I miss?” he asks, his gaze ping-ponging between the three of us.

Stone looks up from his food and nods at his friend. “Just Elina finally giving me the time of day.”

He shrugs, completely casual, like this is a perfectly normal conversation.

Trent grins. “Ah, so you finally decided to shoot your shot? Good for you, my man. About time.”

Deacon stops by his seat beside me, spinning his chair around before straddling it backwards with his usual grin.

“Who’s Stone made a move on now?” he asks, eyes wide with excitement. “I swear, I need to know your secrets. You get more pussy than—ow! Shit, Junie!”

He jerks his leg back under the table, rubbing his shin with a wince. “What was that for?”

The oats in my mouth suddenly taste like soggy cardboard. Images flash of Stone flirting, smirking, disappearing into shadowy corners and private bedrooms with other girls over the months. My stomach churns.

Junie shoots me a look, then turns to Deacon with a strained smile. “I’m telling you now, you don’t want to hear this one.” Her voice is serious, her eyes wide with warning.

Trent glances between me and Stone, suddenly very aware of the growing tension at the table.

“Oh, come on,” Deacon groans, oblivious. “Of course I want to know. Stone always pulls the hottest girls—serious fucking smokeshows.” He leans over me and slaps Stone on the chest, still laughing.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Stone look so uncomfortable, or like he wants to kill someone more.

“I want all the details, bro.”

“Deacon. For once in your life, read the room and shut up,” Junie hisses.

Stone clenches his jaw and shuts his eyes tight as if willing himself to stay calm.

I want Miento to open up the ground beneath my feet and swallow me whole into the depths of the underworld.

Deacon’s eyes flick between us, catching on the blush creeping over my cheeks, the way I’m slowly sinking into my chair like I could disappear into the grain of the wood.

Then he looks at Stone, who’s staring at me like he can will me to meet his gaze, his eyes practically burning a hole in the side of my face.

Deacon’s head bounces between us a few more times.

Then realisation hits.

“No!” he yells, launching out of his seat. “You two?” He points a finger at both of us, then slaps a hand over his mouth. “Oh, Gods. I think I’m gonna be sick. I just asked about…” He dry-heaves. “She’s like my fucking sister.” Another gag.

“Here you go, man.” Trent slides a cup of water across the table. Deacon takes it, sipping slowly as he lowers himself back into his seat, the right way around this time.

“Why didn’t anyone stop me?” he demands, glowering at all of us.

Junie rolls her eyes.

“It only happened last night.” I start to explain. “It’s not like we—”

But Deacon throws up a hand. “If it’s all the same to you two, I’d prefer to never, ever , know how or what happened.”

“Fucking fine by me,” Stone mutters, reaching under the table to rest his hand gently on my leg. His thumb strokes small circles, but I brush his hand away subtly, suddenly not loving the feel of his touch.

He leans in close then, his voice low and raw beside my ear. “Don’t shut down on me, Red.”

There’s something pained in his tone. An edge of panic I’ve never heard from him before.

I keep my eyes fixed on the table, but I can’t rid myself of the images of all those other girls from my head. They flick through my mind like a terrible slideshow.

Then his hand wraps around mine, and he hauls me to my feet. Before I can protest, he’s pulling me out of the hall. I don’t yank my hand free as everyone’s already staring, and although I usually wouldn’t give a shit, I don’t have the stomach for an even bigger scene this morning.

We head toward the combat rings in the training yard. Stone’s pace is steady but urgent, and when he pushes the heavy doors, they crash open with such force that Barnett and two officers who are looking over some notes together startle.

I struggle to match his long strides, and even though he’s careful not to drag me or grasp my wrist too tightly, there’s no escaping his grip without a fight.

He stops beside the farthest ring—a secluded pit, an edge of it hidden beneath a weeping willow’s draping branches. It’s as private as it gets. He chose it on purpose.

Stone turns to face me after pulling me fully under the willow, his expression fierce, angry almost.

“You don’t get to do this to me, Elina.” His voice is low, rough. “You don’t get to finally give in to me, to whatever it is that’s been building between us, and then shut me out the moment you’re reminded of my past.”

His chest rises and falls, each breath tight with restraint.

“I’m not ready to do this right now.” I try to move past him, but he grabs my wrist.

“No, if you’re not ready to talk to me—if you won’t tell me what’s going on in your head, if you’re too pissed off or scared or confused to say it out loud—then fine.”

He steps back, rolling his shoulders.

“You don’t have to say it. You can just fight me.”

My breath catches. His eyes burn into mine, daring and pleading in equal measure.

“Let it out, Red. The best way you know how. But you don’t get to walk away from this, not without a fight.”