Coreene Callahan - Knight Avenged

Odd in more ways than one.

Particularly since Andrei usually handled injuries in the aftermath.

Blowing out a shaky breath, Cosmina uncurled her fingers from his tunic and lifted her head. Her hands slid over his arms, making pleasure hum and yearning rise. Christ, he wanted her. More now than ever, but instead of picking her up and carting her off, he clung to self-control. She needed time to calm down. So did he. But as she set her hands, palms flat, against the wall of his chest, he almost lost it. The heat of her touch. The beauty of her scent. All her lithe curves pressed to him sent him sideways, tearing apart patience, making his restraint falter.

He murmured her name.

Tipping her chin up, she met his gaze. The chaos in her eyes set him straight, shoving desire aside. Jesus. He didn’t like that look. It contained so much doubt, as though she’d lost her footing along with her bearings. Henrik frowned, wondering for a moment if her uncertainty was somehow his fault. His leaving hadn’t been kind. Aye, he’d left the note but . . . hell. It didn’t mean much. Not here. Not now while he tried to get closer and . . .

She backpedaled into full-blown retreat.

All right, so she wasn’t withdrawing physically. She still stood in the circle of his arms. Nor was she trying to break his hold. But Henrik recognized the shift into self-protection. Saw her guard go up an instant before she broke eye contact and looked away. Shifting in his embrace, Cosmina glanced over her shoulder. Her gaze landed on the pair halfway up the steps. Worry furrowed her brow. A moment later, she pushed against his chest and tried to step away. He held on tight, preventing her from leaving his arms and returning to her friend. She’d said it first: not yet. He wasn’t ready to let her go yet.

“She’s fine, Cosmina,” he said, tone full of reassurance. “Cristobal can be trusted. He’ll see to her wounds and keep her safe.”

“Like you did me.”

“Aye.” Brushing the hair from her temple, he met her gaze, then turned his hand and cupped her cheek. Soft silk caressed his palm. Pleasure hummed, raising awareness as he traced her mouth with his thumb. She opened for him, parting her lips, inviting his kiss, but . . . goddamn it. As much as he yearned to taste her again, he couldn’t. Too much remained unsaid between them. So like it or nay, he must hold the line. Make it clear. Bring them back to the point where trust took root, and she believed in him again. “Like I did you, iubita . Like I always will you.”

Tears filled her eyes.

“Sweet love . . . please look at me.”

She shook her head. “If I do, I’ll be finished. Just done and . . . blast it all. ’Tisn’t the least bit fair.”

“What isn’t?”

“I should be furious with you for the whole mind-invasion thing.” She frowned, looking more confused than angry. “And the way you left too, but—goddess help me—I cannot begin to . . . I don’t even know how to . . .”

Her voice broke. Henrik’s heart along with it. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her. Had known from the beginning making love to her—allowing her too close—would lead to huge complications and bad feelings. And yet, here he stood, acting selfish once again, holding on to her instead of leaning away.

“I want to be angry. I really do, but . . .” With a sigh, she thumped his shoulder with the side of a fist. A moment later, her forehead followed, touching down in the center of his chest. “I cannot seem to manage it. ’Tis the truth, I’m so happy to see you, I cannot think of one nasty thing to say. ’Tis pathetic.”

“Nay, Cosmina . . . ’tisn’t a bit pathetic,” he said, stroking his hand over her hair. The tendrils slipped between his fingertips, encouraging him to delve deeper. He didn’t hesitate. Murmuring his enjoyment, he played in the thick strands, loving the weight and feel, but mostly that she allowed him to touch her. “’Tis just the shock talking. As soon as it passes, you’ll show no mercy.”

She huffed. “Probably.”

“I’m sure of it.”

“I don’t like feeling this way.”

“I know,” he said. “Would you like me to fix it?”

“Do you think you can?”

He knew he could. Three little words said out loud instead of written on parchment. That’s all it would take. At least, he hoped so. Nothing in life ever came easy. Love least among them. Yet Henrik knew he needed to do it. To right the wrong he’d done to her, bare his soul and come clean. The truth must be told. Cosmina deserved every ounce of it. Knowing it, however, didn’t make moving forward any easier. He hated that he’d hurt her. Despised all her uncertainty and pain. But as silence fell, he struggled to find his voice.

’Twas a helluva thing.

So brave in battle. Yet terrified by the power of his love for Cosmina.

So instead of baring all, he wrapped his arms around her, buying the time he needed to work up the courage to start the conversation. Cosmina didn’t object. She snuggled close instead, wrapping him up, aligning her body with his, taking all the room beneath his chin. Gratefulness squeezed his heart tight. He loved the feel of her. Could hold her for days and never get bored. ’Twas inevitable, he guessed. Mayhap even normal. His need for her superseded self-preservation . . . along with the usual impulse to retreat. She made him feel things he hadn’t thought possible—need, want, a yearning so deep it scared the hell out of him. Too bad he wasn’t a coward. ’Twould be easier to deny the truth and walk away. But he couldn’t go back.

Or even contemplate leaving her again.

Not while he held her close, and she clung to him. His desire to be near her was no longer a matter of choice or a simple case of want. He needed her now. Far too much to ever let her go. So instead of unlocking his arms, he tightened his grip and murmured her name. She whispered his back, making his heart hurt and his chest ache. Goddamn, she’d been unbelievable today. So smart. So strong. The best kind of accurate too, when she’d taken aim and let the dagger fly. An image of her skipped through his mind. Intense gaze pinned to her target. Perfect balance and form, even on the run. Courage and ability rolled into one. His mouth curved. He couldn’t help it. His pride for her was an involuntary reflex, one he couldn’t—

Someone cleared his throat.

Henrik cringed. Ah hell. He’d lost track of time . . . and his comrades.

With a sigh, he lifted his cheek from atop Cosmina’s head and glanced over his shoulder. Jesus. ’Twas even worse than he thought. Standing in a semicircle behind him, boots planted and expressions set, his friends wore varying shades of what the hell? Henrik understood the surprise along with the charged pause. All the raised eyebrows too. He’d broken rank. Had gone half-mad in his quest to reach Cosmina in time. Add that to the fact he now stood holding her in the middle of the quad while his friends looked on and—aye, give the man a prize. His comrades’ astonishment made sense. He wasn’t, after all, the hugging kind. Open affection simply wasn’t his forte. Or at least, it hadn’t been . . .

Until he’d met Cosmina.

He met his friend’s gaze. “Give me a moment, Xavian.”

“Take all the time you need,” he said, understanding and more in his tone. The more wasn’t difficult to guess. His friend knew what it felt like to fall . . . to be deep in uncharted territory with a woman on his mind. “See to her. I’ll see to the rest. With the dragons in the air, the city will be locked down in less than an hour.”

True enough. White Temple might be large, but its design made defending the city easier than most. Throw in thick stone walls. Add on the square parapets rising like teeth across the battlements, then consider the double gatehouses complete with murder holes at each city entrance and—aye, a skeleton crew could not only man it, but hold it against an enemy for years. Not that three dragons qualified as a skeleton crew . The trio was a force unto themselves. One an incoming army wouldn’t survive, never mind defeat. And as Henrik watched Tareek fly overhead, wings spread wide, bloodred scales gleaming in the sunlight, his heartbeat slowed, and he felt himself unwind.