Page 187 of Fallen Stars

“Women like a man who’s rugged.”

Enzo snorted. “Sounds like an excuse to get about like a vagrant to me. Has anyone introduced you to soap before?” He began to paint the lather carefully onto the beginnings of a beard. “And let me tell you, women also like to not have stubble rash when you’re kissing them, particularly insensitiveareas.”

Adrian scoffed, turning his attention back to the waves.

“I was beginning to like the scruff,” a voice remarked. Enzo looked up, his heart flaring as he made out Elara gliding towards him. He may have been the Sun, but it was Elara that was his source of light. When she was near, he felt safer, more grounded, despite the fear of the future or the enemies at their back. He laughed, adjusting the mirror, as with the other hand he flicked out a small razorblade.

“There are places I want to latch my mouth to that are far too sensitive for beard burn,” he replied, grinning.

Elara tutted, now before him. “You’re going to nick an artery if you keep trying to shave with that flimsy mirror. Let me.”

Enzo lowered his blade, obliging. He spread his legs a little wider, gesturing to them.

With a small smile, Elara straddled him, her skirts fluffing around them both as she took the razorblade from his hand. He loved her so close to him. When her body was pressed to his, it felt like home. She pressed cool fingertips to his jaw, and he sank into her touch, sparking against it as he always did.

“How did you sleep?” he murmured. After the long and heavy conversation with Eli, they had finally retreated to bed, where after making love to her, Enzo had felt closer to her than he had in weeks.

“Not well,” she sighed. “I’m tired of hearing every day that there’s a new threat to our lives.”

“Me too,” Enzo murmured. “But we’re in this together, El. And at least for the next two days, we have a small pocket of peace. I say we don’t waste it worrying of what’s to come and try to just enjoy ourselves in this bubble.”

“You’re right,” she said, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Then she angled his jaw slightly, placing the razorblade flush to his cheek.

“With the grain,” he said.

She tutted. “You think I haven’t shaven a man’s face before?”

A small lurch of jealousy lit within him. “Don’t tell me I have more ex-lovers to hunt and brand,” he drawled.

She laughed, the sound still his favourite thing in the world. “My father, you’ll be pleased to know. He didn’t like having many servants around, so sometimes he’d make me shave him.”

She began to, the blade pressing gently against his cheek. He breathed her in, taking a sly peek at her. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, lips pursed as she shaved. His gaze became heavy lidded as he zoned into those lips, her smoky vanilla scent all around him. His blood began to stir, the primal attraction that seemed to connect them through time and space fizzing.

“Is that another razorblade in your pocket, or are you just happy to have me on your lap?” Elara drawled, not taking her eyes off her work.

Enzo laughed then. “I’d hope my cock felt a bit thicker than a razorblade, love.”

“Dear gods,” she whispered as Adrian glanced in their direction. “I should take that soap and wash your mouth out with it.”

“I can think of something else I’d like in my mouth instead,” he quipped back. Elara rolled her eyes, gripping his jaw tighter.

“What?” he said softly as a hand began to trail down her waist. “Are you going to tell me you’re not reliving dangling off the edge of the world as I made you come over and over with my tongue? Or the way you rode my face last night as you screamed?”

To Enzo’s satisfaction, Elara shifted on top of him, a slight blush creeping across her chest. He chuckled. “I take that as a yes.”

“You’re very brave to be teasing me as I have a blade to your throat.” She made her point by pressing it in slightly. Yet for Enzo, gods help him, it simply aroused him more. His hands skimmed her hips as he took a surreptitious look around the deck. With a deft flick of his hands, he was under her skirts.

Elara’s hand jerked, soap flying through the air. “Enzo,” she hissed.

His right hand stroked the inside of her knee. “Elara,”he retorted.

“What are you doing? We have an audience.”

“Does Adrian really count as an audience?”

Like magick, Merissa and Isra appeared, both cradling mugs of hot tea to themselves against the chilly air.

“Morning,” Merissa called over.