8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

I awake to the sad coo of mourning doves and a crackling fire. I sit up and peer through the flap of the tent. By the looks of the sun it appears to be early evening. Gods, I've slept most of the day.

Our blankets, clothes, and my boot hang on a clothesline near the fire. Nearby, Eoin smokes his pipe and studies a map. The prairie to the south is black, with little wisps of smoke floating up in different patches like little chimneys across the coast of Ravton.

My gaze lands on Eoin again, wearing nothing but his undergarments, brows creased in concentration. His beard has filled in these last few weeks, giving him a scruffy and unkempt look. This man jumped between me and a monster today.

My gaze slides down his neck and bare chest to the calloused hand and fingers that mindlessly roll the corner of our map. Oh, the things I've heard about those hands. I wonder what it might feel like if he were on top of me in this tent.

The thought takes me by surprise, but I let my mind wander.

I think of walking out to him by the fire, sitting near him, stroking his wavy hair. What might it feel like for him to caress my cheek before kissing me passionately and deeply? A mixture of shame and pleasure burns deep in my belly. I picture him meeting my gaze with hunger in his eyes and pulling me onto his lap. His hand slips below my pantie-line, and he teases me with his fingers before slipping two inside.

The air charges and Eoin sits up straight, head whipping to me with wide eyes. His throat bobs once as we stare wordlessly at one another. Why is he looking at me like this? He shakes his head slightly before waving me out.

"I made soup if you want some." He gestures to the small pot hanging over the fire. "Nothing special: just wild onions and our last potato."

"Thanks." I slink out of the tent and grab my wooden cup, filling it with soup. "You went back for my boot?" I point to the brown boot hanging on the line and sit near our other boots drying by the fire.

"I couldn't let you walk that far without a boot." It must have been recent, as his hair is still damp. "How are you feeling? You were burning up with fever." He places the map across his lap.

"I'm okay." My bruised thigh looks less angry in the firelight. "I'm still tired, though."

An owl hoots somewhere near the pine tree, and a breeze moves through camp, flapping the tent's canvas and stoking the fire's flames. Goose bumps spread across my skin, and I wrap my arms around my middle.

Eoin clears his throat, eyeing everything around camp but me. We eat mostly in silence until he stands and folds his map. "I'm going to pile on a few more branches. Hopefully, we can get some more good coals going, and our blankets will be dry by morning."

"No blankets? It's freezing." I shiver and move closer to the fire.

"It's not freezing. It just gets cooler at night up here." He throws the last bundle of sticks onto the fire and opens the tent flap. "I'm tired too. Let's hope for a better day tomorrow."

We bring in our weapons and find our familiar spots on opposite sides of the tent. I curl up, shivering so hard my back muscles tense.

"Oh, by the sleeping gods. Come here. You're shaking the whole damn tent." He rolls onto his side, facing me. I hesitate, and he raises up an arm to make room for me. "It's not like we haven't cuddled before."

"It's been years." I crawl over our swords and drop to my side, letting Eoin pull my back against his chest. His warmth bleeds into me, spreading through me like warm cider. One by one, my muscles stop twitching, and I relax.

"That's better," he says and shifts behind me. I rest my head on one of his arms while he loops the other around my middle. This is the most comfortable spot I've found in the last six weeks. I can't get used to this. He's just my friend.

***

Birds sing, and Eoin's steady, warm breath caresses my ear. He must have pulled me even closer while we slept, almost tucking me underneath him. I shift, pushing back on him and untangle our legs. If I hurry, I can get dressed before he's up.

He groans softly and pulls me back to him, nuzzling my neck and breathing me in. With astonishing gentleness, he runs his fingers down the column of my throat, across my collarbone, and down my chest, dipping just below the neckline of my undershirt.

I freeze, transfixed by his touch. His strokes seem deliberate but cautious, not moving any lower. My heart rate picks up, and with it, my breathing. A small, steady stream of energy refills my well, and I know what he's thinking.

The rise and fall of his chest against my back quickens. It's been so long since someone's touched me like this. I close my eyes and arch my back.

He exhales sharply, and he grabs my hip. Something very hard presses against my backside.

My pulse quickens, and heat builds within me.

He's my friend. "Eoin, what are we doing?" I peer over my shoulder, meeting his gaze. His pupils dilate, and he parts his lips.

"Whatever we want." He relaxes his hold, letting me turn to my back.

The headiness of his gaze remains, and after a moment of hesitation, he touches me again, sliding gentle fingers along the curve of my cheek and tracing the familiar path down my neck and across my collarbone. He glances at the thin fabric covering my breasts before continuing lower.

His eyes catch mine as he slides a thumb across my nipple, and I exhale a ragged breath. "Kiss me."

I reach for him, and whatever is holding him back snaps.

He moves over me, spreading my legs around his hips and sliding his hands up my body as he settles over me. His rough hand palms the side of my face before he leans down, pressing his warm, soft lips to mine.

A part of me melts into the kiss and his safe familiarity. The other part ignites, craving more from him than I've ever known. I kiss him back as the rush of emotions well within me. This feels so wrong, but I want it. I grab a fistful of his soft, unkempt hair, and he moans against my lips. Gods, he feels good—his warmth and the weight of him.

He kisses my neck, pressing himself against me, and I grind my hips up into him. The friction of his hard length rubbing against my clit makes my toes curl in anticipation. His hands slide down my chest and stomach to my underwear, teasing me at the edges.

My heart thrums against my chest as he returns to my mouth, kissing me feverishly. Is this really going to happen? I open my mouth to him, and his tongue meets mine. He tastes wild and earthy, like the heptade herbs.

I let out a small moan, and he bucks his hips into me so hard we slide across the tent. He kisses me with unabated need, gripping me tightly to him with one hand and exploring my body with the other.

The throbbing between my legs intensifies with the promising rhythm of his rocking hips. Oh gods, we're going to have sex.

I want it. No, I need it.

I slide my hands down his abdomen, straight for his underwear, pushing them slightly down his hips. The air charges sharply, and pure magic skitters over my skin. It feels so damn good.

"Oh gods," I say between kisses, "there's so much." The sheer volume of energy I could pull right now if I weren't already full is astounding. I want him to feel it. I want him to feel this good.

Eoin sets up, panting, and looks me square in the eyes.

I sit up on my elbows. "What? Did I say something wrong?"

"No. I just. . ." His eyes scan down my body before squeezing shut. He lets out a heavy sigh. "We just can't." He stands and moves back to the tent entrance. "Fuck." He slaps the tent flap aside, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

My mind races from embarrassment to anger and back to embarrassment within a span of moments. I don't understand.

Eoin doesn't bother wandering very far before relieving himself. I feel the peak moment with a burst of energy in the air.

I exit the tent and find him with his back turned to me, putting on his dry clothes. I approach and gather my clothes as he sits down next to the fire pit, head in his hands, looking at his feet.

"What the hell was that?" I ask, pulling my pants up.

"Me?" His gaze shoots up to meet mine and I flinch at his angry tone. "I could ask you the same thing. One moment, I'm smoking, trying to think of a new plan to get to Helios. The next minute, you're in my head, and I'm unreasonably aroused for someone who's been studying a map. I saw images, too—of you walking out and kissing me. When I looked at you, I saw it on your face. I knew it was you, but I blew it off." He looks at the sky and sighs.

"And then you did it again, just now. We were about to. . ." He closes his eyes and shakes his head. Something in my stomach sinks. "I felt everything you were feeling. I could feel your arousal and something else: something powerful all around us."

"I . . ." My cheeks heat, and my throat feels tight as I fight back tears. "I . . . I don't know what to say. I didn't mean to. I didn't know I could do that. I'm sorry. I thought they were just my thoughts, my private thoughts. I'm sorry."

Eoin sighs. "Don't apologize for your private thoughts. Everyone has them. I have them." He pulls his boots on. "I'm not mad at you. It just freaked me out. You're the only fae I've ever known. Most of the time, I forget it, but sometimes it hits me, and I just don't know what you're capable of."

"Oh." I'm not sure why, but his words sting. I've never thought of myself as something so ‘other' to him. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I'm not sure what I'm capable of either." I give him a halfhearted smile and he huffs, tossing a twig into the fire pit.

"Please don't be angry with me."

He stands, looking at me with a strange expression. "We need to pack up. I promise I'm not mad at you. We really can't do this, though, as much as we might want to."

I feel sick. I had it all wrong.

"I get it. We're friends!" My voice is unusually high. "We're both attractive; it was bound to happen sometime."

"Right." His tone is forced and a little tense. "It's probably best if we don't. We wouldn't make it to the castle in time, and we'd be stuck thieving forever." He smiles at me playfully, and some of the tightness in my throat subsides.

"You're probably right." I return his smile, but that small ache in my chest remains.