Hunter's Season: Elder Races, Book 4 by Thea Harrison Page B

said between his teeth as a horrible thought occurred to him. “Have you made promises to someone else?”
    Her expression turned even more shocked. “No!”
    “Then if you say a word about me being the Chancellor or you being a guard, I might just throttle you. There is no place for that here, between us. I am just a man who wants to kiss you. Do you want to kiss me back? That is the only consideration of any relevance in this moment. If you do not, just say so and I’m sorry I assumed too much—”
    She lunged up on tiptoe, her arms snaking around his neck, and kissed him hard.
    There it was, what he had been looking for, her full-bodied, full-hearted cooperation. He closed his eyes and sank into her mouth, spearing into her as deeply as he could go.
    What they created together was a wild storm of emotion. This time when she pulled back, she was shaking all over.
    He loved that.
    “Okay,” she whispered. “Okay.”
    He was not prepared to let her off the hook. He cupped the nape of her neck, holding her in place as he leaned his forehead on hers. He said in a low voice, “You will stay in the bed again with me tonight.”
    She licked her lips and said, “Yes.”
    He pressed her further, one hand gripping her hip. “And there will not be a sheet or a blanket between us.”
    Her dark gaze searched his. Her eyes were such a lovely, deep color, filled with clarity, intelligence and depth. “No blankets, Aubrey.” Her fingertips stroked over his lips. “Except for the ones we pull over us both.”
    He released a long, pent-up breath and pressed a kiss against her fingers.
    She shook her head. “You have knocked everything sensible outside of my head again. I think I was starting to fix breakfast.”
    He purred, “We could always go back to bed right now.”
    She lost all of her composure again. “I—you—seriously?”
    He laughed, a throaty, delighted sound. She sounded almost panicked at the thought. “Forget about breakfast, or even bed right now. Why don’t we step outside for some fresh air. We could even go for a walk. The river is close, isn’t it?”
    She took a step back to eye him, her gaze turning assessing. She smiled. “You’re really doing better.”
    He nodded. “I’m still stiff, especially in my back. But it’s much better now.”
    “An oiled massage would help with a lot of that stiffness.”
    That demon of lunacy took over his tongue. He said, deadpan, “I think an oiled massage would take care of all kinds of stiffness.”
    Hot color washed over her cheeks. She added, strangled, “Certainly, that is, if you—think you might—I meant especially on that wound on your back to loosen up the muscles.”
    He shouted with laughter. “By all the gods, woman, how did you survive in the army for so long?”
    Her embarrassment turned into a glare. “I’m not like this with anybody else!”
    His laughter faded. Warmed, he cupped her cheek and rubbed his thumb over those soft, unusually full lips. “Really?”
    She nodded dumbly.
    “I cherish all of it,” he whispered.
    Clearly she was not used to compliments, for she showed none of the polished deflection practiced by so many of the ladies of his acquaintance. Every word he said affected her deeply; he could see it in her eyes.
    She was an assassin, and she had survived not only in Urien’s palace for decades, but she had also survived Thruvial’s household. Yet with him, she did not barrier any part of herself or use the many tools that must exist in her repertoire. Instead she revealed to him a heart of glass, fragile and beautifully faceted in every way, luminous with light.
    He could not remember ever feeling so touched, or so honored.
    “Come,” she said. “I’ll show you my favorite spot by the river. We can even fish if you want. I like fish for breakfast.”
    “So do I,” he told her.
    He got dressed fully, pulling on a shirt and boots. The day was fine enough again that no jacket was necessary. He tied his hair back