One hand covered my mouth when I stepped into his bedchamber.

The bed was unkempt and smelled of the fresh rain and oakmoss of his skin. A wardrobe was opened, and inside his uniforms and tunics and cloaks were arranged neatly, but that was the extent of it. In one corner were pairs of sloughed-off boots and a few unsheathed blades.

Roark was collected and pulled taut in the face of everyone, but here, he could simply be; he was free to be messy and at ease.

He was a beautiful conundrum.

I leaned against the door of the balcony. He was tending to a wound on his side. A discolored gash that looked almost dead around the edges, but if there had been a great deal of blood, it had stopped flowing.

His hair was glistening and damp. His skin had more than one bruise, but looked freshly scrubbed. His trousers were without a belt, and hung seductively low on his hips, revealing the two dimples on his lower back.

The man was a sight I never anticipated needing.

I knocked on the edge of the doorway. He spun around with a start.

“Good to see you alive, Sentry.” My voice was strained, heavy with emotion.

Roark had my face trapped in his palms in a breath, and in the next, his mouth was on mine.

Unexpected, but welcome. For a moment I forgot about battle, blood, and assassins.

I dug my hand into his hair, and water from the wash slickened my fingers when I tugged at the roots. A low moan rumbled into his kiss. He parted my lips with his tongue, greedy and possessive. He claimed me, marking me with his mouth, his teeth, his hands.

When he dipped his chin to break the kiss, he pressed his forehead to mine, our breaths tangling.

Roark lifted a hand. You were missing.

“I was looking for you.” I traced the edge of his lip. “You were missing.”

His eyes brightened with a new heat that was frightening and intoxicating all at once.

You went to town, Lyra.

“You saw?”

I was told. Then I could not find you. Roark shook his head, letting his hand drop to his side.

Tears burned. I blinked them away. “I couldn’t stay. Not…not after what happened. Watching you go, watching everyone go, I couldn’t stay because…”

How was I to explain any of it? Would Roark think me mad? He was hateful at our first meet; to return to indifference and duty felt like a dreary feat I didn’t want to risk.

He tilted my chin, forcing me to look at him. Tears? What must I do to return them to your eyes?

Emotion, fear, and unknowns I’d kept buried broke. My forehead dropped to his chest, against the even beat of his heart. Silent sobs shuddered down my spine. Roark tightened his embrace, holding me close to his body.