Page 14 of Lake of Sorrow
Vlerion set the newspaper down and closed the door. A frisson of anticipation coursed through her, but they couldn’t do anything. They both knew that.
Yet he stepped close, slipping his arm around her waist and pulling her into a hug as he leaned his jaw against the side of her head. “Your sling skills are elite. One day, you can wield a more deadly weapon if you wish, but I saw you strike the man aiming to kill me.” His lips brushed the top of her ear, and she shivered with hot desire, then reached up to grip his warm bare shoulders.
“You would have done the same for me,” she whispered, as if it had been nothing, but it pleased her that he’d noticed. She wanted him to know she had his back and to trust her; maybe it shouldn’t have, but his opinion of her mattered more than that of the king and queen. Much more. “You have done the same for me. In the catacombs. In the dungeon.”
“I wish I could reward you for fighting with me and keeping my secret.” Vlerion nuzzled her ear, sending such delicious tingles through her that she couldn’t keep from shifting closer to him. What kind of reward did he have in mind?
Possible answers to that question made her heart pound as much with fear as eagerness and anticipation. If he let himself go too far with her, he would turn into the beast right here in the ranger barracks. He had to worry about that too, about hurting—or killing—his own allies.
“It’s possible my family is right,” Vlerion murmured, releasing her and stepping back.
“That my mead is wonderful?”
“My mother believes that. My cousin hasn’t tried it, as far as I know.”
Ah, yes, the cousin who’d tattled to his mother that Vlerion had been standing close to Kaylina the first and only day of her ranger training. Standing close and lusting, apparently, though Kaylina mostly remembered him being a gentleman and covering her with a towel.
“But, as my mother said, I am drawn to you and have a hard time being… wise.”
“Sorry,” she murmured, understanding the problem perfectly. Even after he’d stepped back, she longed to close the gap between them, to slide her hands over the powerful muscles of his shoulders, to lift her mouth to his for a passionate kiss. To resist the temptation, she looked at his violin again. “If it helps, I’m drawn to you too.”
“That makes it worse, because I know the night would be extraordinary.”
“Until…”
He became a threat instead of a lover.
“Until,” he agreed, taking another step back. “I need to put on my trousers.”
No, she thought silently. “Yes,” she said aloud, turning her back to give him privacy—and to keep from ogling him.
“Give me a moment.” Vlerion waved her into the office, handed her the newspaper, then closed the door behind her.
She poured herself a cup of water from a jug and lit a lantern so he could peruse the story she’d only halfway heard when Frayvar read it aloud. Long moments passed, and she skimmed some of the back pages of the newspaper.
When Vlerion stepped into the office with her, he was fully clothed, his mask in place. Distant and aloof, or so she’d initially believed. Now she knew better.
He reached for the newspaper but paused and glanced toward a cabinet. “I don’t dare spend time at your castle, especially after it tried to strangle Targon, but I risked stepping in long enough to grab the belongings that you left there.”
“My belongings? There wasn’t much after the fire in the kitchen. I got the mead out.”
“Yes.” Vlerion opened the cabinet door. “Your bottles are in one of our cellars with a lock on it. A few young rangers—and Doc Penderbrock—thought they could help themselves to samples. I disabused them of that notion.”
“I hope you didn’t beat on the doctor who’s bandaged both me and my brother.”
“Not too much. One wants morale to remain high among one’s caregivers.” Vlerion withdrew four jars of honey, the handwritten labels in Grandpa’s writing.
“Oh.” Kaylina had forgotten to grab those from the pantry when she’d been rescuing the mead from the root cellar. Perhaps because a broken bottle had forced her to rescue some of that mead into her stomach, which had left her mind fuzzy that night. “Thank you.”
“You are welcome.” It might have been the first time he’d said that.
Kaylina resisted the urge to dance around the desk to kiss him, but he appeared pleased by her beaming smile. The four jars weren’t enough to make mead, but she could whip up numerous batches of honey-drop candies for people—and taybarri.
When she cleared her name and could return her focus to opening a meadery, she would have to send for more honey from her grandparents. Since they hadn’t approved of this venture—or even known about it, except belatedly, thanks to the letter Frayvar had left—they might not be willing to support it. Still, she hoped they would forgive her, maybe even want to see her succeed. Since Grandpa’s bees feasted on the pollen of altered plants, their honey was far superior to anything she could buy locally.
“Are you hungry?” Vlerion asked.
“Starving,” Kaylina admitted.