When it ended, Roark pressed slow kisses down my throat. Sweat dampened his forehead. He lifted his hand, but didn’t speak, tracing the lines of my nose, my lips. Each touch he followed with tender kisses.

After a moment, he stepped into the washroom, returning with a clean linen. Roark cared for me, sweetly kissing me while he washed and soothed between my legs.

When he finished, Roark rolled onto his back and pulled me close.

I draped a leg over his waist. Roark held my head to his chest, his slow fingertips drawing circles over my shoulders and back until my eyes grew heavy.

For the first time since arriving at Stonegate, I breathed in pure, unadulterated contentment. I let my lashes flutter closed. Roark pressed a kiss to my brow, and mouthed words I didn’t catch before I fell into the peace of sleep.

43

Roark

I caught Lyra riffling through the pile of our discarded clothes before the sun rose. Mists of gray morning cast her bare skin in soft light. She was stunning and I could not look away. I knocked my knuckles against the post of my bed, halting her movements.

Hair draped wild over her brow, shielding the pretty flush to her cheeks.

What are you doing?

Lyra hugged her discarded dress to her breasts and tucked a lock of her hair behind one ear. “Protecting your upstanding reputation.”

I snorted. Let talk spread if it brings you back to my bed.

Lyra let her dress fall back to the floor. She crept over the furs and quilts, leveraging her naked thighs in a straddle over my hips. On instinct, my palms went to her waist, as though not touching her would bring physical pain.

Do you hurt at all?

She grinned. “A little. Very worth it, though.”

I curled the end of her hair around one finger and spoke with the other hand. You planned to leave without a word?

Lyra’s smile faded. “You were injured in battle. I wanted you to rest.”

I slept better than I have in seasons. Rest can wait.

“This won’t be accepted, Roark. You know it. Damir will consider it a distraction from your protection of the prince, and my duty as his melder.”

A king’s word will not stop me wanting you.

Her teeth tugged on her bottom lip, the corners tilted in a small grin. “Treasonous talk, Sentry Ashwood.”

I kissed her, my fingers tangled in the hair at the base of her head. A dozen words I wanted to whisper against her lips danced in my mind—she brightened my heart, my damn soul. I wanted her to know now that I’d had her taste, no one would satisfy but her. Her touch was still burned on me like it had burrowed into my skin and would never leave.

I didn’t want it to.