Page 37 of The Unweaver (Unwoven Fates #1)

P ale winter light spilled across her face.

Cora burrowed into the warm male she had slept beside for blurred days. A comforting presence in the darkest hours between dusk and dawn. His nearness was a balm on the wound she knew would never fully heal. The best parts of her had died with Teddy, leaving her hollow.

Each day was its own eternity.

Malachy had given her an enchanted ring—one of a pair and made of malachite, no less—to reach him whenever she needed. Twisting the ring would reverberate across any distance to the matching one on his own finger. He even promised not to be irritated in advance of any interruptions.

After reassuring him, several times, that she’d use the ring, he would leave in the morning, pressing a kiss to her cheek, and return after the sun had set, climbing into bed and wrapping his body around hers.

When her suffering wanted her closer, he was there, soothing her. When she awoke from nightmares, he was there, reaching for her in the night, an arm roping around her waist and tucking her against solid warmth. Lulled by his even breaths, she would drift back asleep, less troubled. Cora had never slept as well as she did in Malachy Bane’s arms.

Her back to his chest and his arm around her middle, their bodies melded into slumberous relaxation with only her silk chemise and his shorts between their skin. She arched into the hardness curling around her, eliciting a low groan from his throat, a tightening of his arm.

Slowly, she became aware of another hardness, pressing into her bottom. Her hips shifted. The firm ridge stiffened. He moaned, his fingers digging into her soft flesh.

Realization dawned with the morning.

Malachy jerked back as if burned, muttering apologies. She turned to face him. He sat against the headboard, shirtless, with his head in his hands and an impressive erection testing the tensile strength of his shorts. Hair mussed and cheeks flushed, the Realmwalker looked adorably flustered.

Sharing his bed, Cora was no stranger to this part of his anatomy. This beautiful part of his anatomy. But where there had been the plausible deniability of nighttime before, now there was only the revealing light of day.

Her lips quirked. “Good morning to you, too.”

With an anguished sound, he swung off the bed and shoved his trousers on. “I am a man,” he said with a valiant effort of fastening his trousers over his straining length. “I’m not made of wood.”

“Beg to differ.” She couldn’t resist smiling.

Their gazes met, and his lips rose in a matching smile. Laughing, he shook his head and raked back his hair, tugging on a discarded shirt as he headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” she asked his retreating back.

“To throw myself into the Thames. I’ll make you breakfast first.”

Every day, he’d cooked meals she only picked at. Today, she felt the stirrings of appetite. One day at a time . Wrapping herself in a robe, she followed the scent of frying butter and padded to the kitchen.

His gaze traced over her in the doorway. “Cora,” he said carefully.

She hadn’t gone farther than his bedroom or the bathroom in over a week. The kitchen was the same, but she was not. She would never be the same. Her heart was a morgue.

One day at a time .

He offered her a cup of tea with five sugar cubes like a religious rite. She hadn’t had more than water and the potions he forced her to drink since… before. After a timid sip, she was surprised that tea still tasted the same, and five sugars were still the exact right amount.

A grin split his face as she downed the cup. Pouring her another, he turned to the stove and flipped an omelet with an expert flick.

She leaned against the counter, the corners of her mouth lifting. “Malachy Bane is making me breakfast.”

He shot her a sly smile. “I suppose you’ve earned your keep.”

The easiness of his smiles and laughter warmed her from within. “You’re different now,” she mused. “That’s a compliment.”

He chuckled. “I feel different. The fact I feel anything at all is astounding. Food tastes better. Music sounds sweeter. Even my cock feels harder.”

She choked on tea. “Ah,” she managed.

He flipped the omelet onto a plate and slid it towards her. “Without Koschei’s Egg, I have to scale back my operations, of course. But with Verek and Edwina gone, I’m capitalizing on the lack of competition by expanding into manufacturing and intelligence. Buying up ships and trains, where I relied on Choromancy before. In six months, I’ll have built enough capacity to more than make up for the magic losses.”

A smile broke across her face at the boyish enthusiasm of his scheming. A laugh escaped her lips. It felt surprisingly good. A relief after all this suffering, when she didn’t think there’d be anything to laugh about again. Tossing her head back, she laughed harder.

“Ah, there it is,” he said with a marveling smile. “My favorite sound. The moment your laugh becomes a cackle.”

“I do not cackle.”

“You do.” He braced his hands on the counter on either side of her. Leaning closer, he dropped his voice. “What are you cackling about?”

“You and your schemes.”

She drank in his laugh like a glass of champagne. Gently, he cradled her face in hands. Instead of fear or panic, something warm bloomed in her chest. Safe . She felt safe. Even without a Binding Agreement, she knew he wouldn’t hurt her.

Malachy had seen every darkness in her. Her worst moments, her most shameful secrets, her bitterest regrets. He saw the blood on her hands and the unrepentant fire in her eyes. He saw her. And in him, she saw a kindred darkness.

They held a candle to the darkest part of each other and didn’t flinch.

She rested her palms on his chest and felt his heart beating. A steady thumping that had called to her across Realms. His hands circled her waist, fitting her against him, slender curves and lean hardness. She sank into his embrace.

Heartbreakingly tender, he pressed his lips to hers and stole all her doubts with his kiss.

The piece of a lifelong puzzle slid into place.

A delirium of sensations coursed through her. The softness of his lips and firmness of his body. The gentleness of his mouth sliding along hers. The heat erupting low in her belly. With the sweep of tongues and stroke of hands, the kiss deepened. A kiss better than any dream.

It was over too soon. Loosening his hold, he pulled back. Giving her an escape.

Breaths quick and heart drumming, she looked into his eyes. A beckoning and a warning in their midnight depths. Any deeper into these uncharted waters and she would be pulled under, never to leave the fathoms.

Cora dove in. Tangling her hands in his hair, she crushed her lips to his. The answering caress of his tongue, coaxing her mouth to open, sent a thrill of longing into her core. She moaned. Her nails scored down the muscles of his back, tugging him closer.

“Christ, this feeling…” he murmured wondrously against her lips. “What is this feeling?”

His fingers delved through her mane of unruly hair, stroking down her curves and gripping her hips, pressing her snug against his hardening length. The way their bodies fit together was its own kind of magic. His hands slid up her ribcage, slipping into her robe and cupping her breasts, kneading them, torturing her nipples into straining peaks.

On a long moan, she gripped his biceps and arched into his touch. Heat licked through her, melting her bones like wax, threatening to consume her. What a lovely way to burn , was her only thought.

Mouths fused and tongues gliding in a searing kiss, they were sinking into each other. And, she vaguely realized, to the floor. She was draped across his lap, arms around his neck, devouring and being devoured. The hard ridge of his cock pressed against her bottom. Tension thrummed, winding a tight knot of need deep within her.

His hand smoothed up her bare thigh and grazed her knickers.

Gasping, her eyes widened. His heavy-lidded gaze was scorching as he searched for the answer to his touch’s question. She couldn’t put this burning need into words, and so she kissed him, parting her thighs in invitation. With a featherlight touch, he stroked through her slick folds to her aching clit.

“ Fuck ,” they groaned.

Clinging to him, her head dropped back with a soft cry at the pressure and pleasure of his touch. He lapped kisses down the column of her throat, caressing her clit in agonizing circles. A long finger eased into her wet heat.

She flinched back and he immediately withdrew his hand, his eyes roaming over her in concern.

“I-I’m not ready,” she said, breathless. His taste lingered on her kiss-swollen lips.

Understanding passed over his features. Breathing hard, he nodded and rested his forehead against hers. “I’ve got a century’s worth of cravings racing through my veins. But I can be patient.”

“I just need time.”

A slow smile spread across his face. “And time we have.”

Cora gazed into his blue eyes, and hope gazed back.