Sorcha felt a satisfied grin on her face. Years with Kolya had almost made her forget her own power, her own sexuality. It was heady stuff to be naked with someone who appreciated it. So she took the compliment and pressed her lips back to his. Raed’s hands slid over her body gently at first, and then suddenly pulled her tight against him.
Frantic for more, they staggered back together onto the swaying bed. With surprise, Sorcha realized she was shaking. She couldn’t recall her body ever reacting like this before. It was like she didn’t even know it, as it obeyed more primal instincts. Raed curled his hands around her hair, trapping her against him. His strength was intoxicating, and for once Sorcha did not feel the need to fight another’s power. Instead she bent under it, giving way with a satisfied sigh.
Sliding her hands down Raed’s back, reveling in the texture of his skin and the faintest beginnings of sweat between them, Sorcha knew that she was being wanton. Yet even this realization was curiously satisfying. She groaned deeply as his tongue ran the length of her neck.
He didn’t deny either of their needs. They rolled slightly on the bed, as the airship thrummed around them, climbing higher. Sorcha giggled, quite undone by desire and awareness of her own mad folly. Pressing her down against the bed, his lips never leaving her, Raed thrust himself inside the gasping Deacon Sorcha Faris.
The sensation was so intense that all of her remaining control dropped away. “Raed.” Her voice came out as a half moan as she dug her fingers into his back. Sorcha’s thighs locked around him tightly when he moved in her, while every other muscle clenched to draw him closer. Pleasure fanned through her body from the places where they joined, until that was all there was.
They ate up hours with each other. Laughing in the between moments at their own passionate madness, drowning in the sensation. Sorcha let herself be carried away, for once forgetting the control that had been taught to her and enjoying their moments together. Finally they lay against each other, sweat drying on their bodies and drowsy exhaustion lying over them like a blanket. Even though Sorcha had thought herself a fit person, her body ached pleasantly in places she didn’t know it could. She made a mental count of them; tongue, thighs and back cried out.
And also unexpected. Sorcha took what felt like her first real breath in hours. Raed rolled over and kissed the damp spot at the base of her neck. “You, Mistress Deacon, are quite the minx, and quite the surprise.”
“As are you.” She trailed her fingers over the outline of his lip and brushed against his teeth; those teeth that always flashed in that smile that had caused this whole thing. Even now she wanted to be kissing him, bruised and battered as she might be.
They stared at each other a moment, smiling in disregard of the storms that loomed ahead. His voice broke through the silence they shared, and he surprised her yet again.
“And if I said I am falling under your spell, Mistress Deacon, would that get you to leap from this bed and run back to your Abbey?”
He was smiling, but behind his eyes, green in the candle-light, was something serious. Slowly she shook her head. “No—strangely, no.” It was the truth.
Raed kissed her lightly and pulled back. “I should not seek out more complications in my life, but you are a delightful one.” His honesty once again completely disarmed her. Used to dealing with men in a controlled void, where emotion and circumstance were never really discussed, she had no experience to fall back on. She floundered a bit in this new environment.
Sorcha had to rely, for the first time, on her own feelings. With a lazy smile and a sigh, she replied, “I certainly thought all this behind me—that makes you dangerous, Captain Rossin.”
His hazel eyes widened but the glint of teeth in his smile made her deepest core twitch. “It is the situation that is dangerous, and frighteningly good.”
“Frighteningly good,” she whispered back in agreement. “But I love it when reality exceeds expectation—that rarely happens.”
She’d laughed, before, at people who told her, “I couldn’t keep my hands off him,” but now at the receiving end, she understood. Raed was a need that was impossible to deny. She felt overcome with sex and pleasure. The experience could prove dangerously addictive. Stroking Raed’s dirty blond hair, she tried to file away the sensation of it; surely this much pleasure couldn’t last. The realization was bittersweet.
His eyes narrowed on her and she feared what was coming. “And your husband, Sorcha—what of him?”
So this was not to be more than sex, then—not for him. The Deacon sighed, her gaze dropping to Raed’s chest. “I don’t suppose you can imagine how it is to be in a dead marriage? How it is to realize you made a huge mistake?”
Raed’s breathing slowed, but she wouldn’t yet meet his eyes. “Is it really that bad?”
“If it was good, you and I would not be in this cabin.” Sorcha said it lightly, hoping he knew she wasn’t sorry. It was the truth, though, and for some reason she wanted to tell him the truth.
Raed tipped her chin up to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry, Sorcha.”
The Deacon frowned. “He shut me out of everything: our love life, our friendship—even our work.” The hollow pit inside her, the one she had been ignoring for so long, was opening up at her feet. “I married him because I loved him, and then I watched him slip away from me.”
By the Bones, she had not wanted to talk about this with him, but it also felt good to finally confide in someone. Yet Sorcha was also fully aware they did not have much time until they reached Vermillion—and there her problems would be waiting for her.
“Don’t let’s talk about Kolya . . . please.” She reached out for him to drive away those moments yet to come.
Raed smiled slightly, the kind of melancholy smile that she knew was on her own lips. He let his fingers trail down her hip, and despite her exhaustion Sorcha was shocked to feel her body stir to life. She should be hungry—she hadn’t eaten since breakfast—but her body still wanted only him. Certainly, there couldn’t be many more moments left to them.
“So, Sorcha,” Raed whispered, “have you finished with your interrogation of this dangerous fugitive?” His tone was husky and teasing, as if he knew what he’d awoken in her. His fingertips traced patterns on her skin, writing his name or trailing cantrips she didn’t know. If only there were a rune to make time stop outside the cabin. If only she could order the Captain to circle the City of Vermillion instead of landing.
Now should be the time for guilt, but that was not the emotion that filled her. Instead, it was something Sorcha had experienced before, in the face of a geist—exhilaration. She stroked his thick hair before curling her fist tightly in it. “Fortunately, for both of us . . . no. I haven’t.”
He laughed as she pulled him back to her mouth; for now, there were still moments left to them. They would enjoy every one.
EIGHTEEN
Epiphany at the Scarlet City
Sorcha and Raed had barely left their cabin for two days. Everyone was uncomfortably aware of this, but none more so than Merrick.
He’d heard the rumors of his partner’s marriage, the whispers that it was now nothing more than a convenience, but in their short time together he had not been able to get the details. Now, however, he was getting much more than he had ever wanted to.
“Are you all right, Merrick?” Nynnia squeezed his arm.
The ripples of pleasure along the Bond were doing very uncomfortable things to his anatomy, especially with the young woman at his side standing so very close. Merrick tugged his cloak tighter about him as quickly as he could. “Yes. Yes, fine. It’s just cold.”
She turned and looked out over the rolling clouds and bright blue sky. “It is a little cold, I suppose, but the view makes up for it.”