Kara pressed her forehead against Rose’s, their breath mingling together, their lips almost touching. Kara squeezed her eyes shut, as if she were in physical pain. “I’m afraid,” she said, her voice soft and broken. “I’m afraid I’ll lose you.”
Rose stared at her, stunned that she’d admit something like that, stunned by the quaking vulnerability in her voice. Desperate to soothe the pain she saw in Kara’s face, Rose laughed, “Since when is Kara Unnarsdóttir afraid of anything?”
“Since now.”
It was such a raw, exposed truth, and it broke Rose’s heart.
Rose lifted her hands and curled them around Kara’s face. She raised up onto her toes, her bare skin pressing against Kara’s, their curves melding together. “Hey,” she whispered against Kara’s lips, her voice gentler than ever, “I am, too.”
Kara opened her eyes, watching Rose with those piercing, icy blue eyes.
“I’m afraid, too,” Rose confessed. “I love you too much to lose you.”
Kara’s fingers slid into Rose’s slightly damp, red hair. She embraced Rose tightly, keeping her close. “What do you say if we, just for tonight, not think about it?” She pressed her lips against Rose’s hair. “Just for tonight, there’s no war. No fear. No solutions. No future. No lack thereof. Just you and me. Just one night.”
“Okay,” Rose sighed, her face pressed against Kara’s bare, wet shoulder.
Kara moved one of her hands to Rose’s face, her wet fingers gently lifting Rose’s head. The soft warmth of her lips met Rose’s. Their mouths parted slowly, as they gasped for breath. Kara slid her tongue into Rose’s mouth, deepening the kiss. Rose wrapped her arms around Kara’s neck, leaning into her. Water moved around them, pushing and pulling, lifting and dropping, but they held each other so tightly, they barely noticed. Kara’s fingers drifted down to Rose’s waist, curling around Rose’s hips, and she pulled, pressing Rose’s body harder against her own.
They both had their eyes closed—both lost in the kiss—when a powerful wave crashed over them, knocking them off of their feet. They separated, gasping and laughing, as they rose out of the water, wiping the sea-water from their faces.
Kara shook the drenched, black hair out of her face. “That was fun!”
Rose rubbed her eyes, which burned from the salt-water. “Personally, I prefer not drowning, but,” she said with a cute, playful smile, “to each their own.”
Kara swam closer, her face more soaked than before. “Let’s try it again.”
Rose shook her head, but she was smiling, already leaning in for a kiss.
—
It was after midnight when they finally climbed out of the water, resting together on the beach. Rose sat with her legs crossed in front of her, watching as the dark, blue water crashed against the sand, and Kara lay behind her, stretched out on her back, watching the tiny, white stars sparkle in the cloudless, black sky.
Rose felt Kara’s fingers brush her hand, and she turned, glancing behind her. Kara lay in the sand, her dark hair wet, sand and salt clinging to every strand. The moonlight bathed her skin in a blue tint, and her light blue gaze met Rose’s.
Kara’s fingers were still cold and wet when they curled around Rose’s. “If the world ends tomorrow, at least I’ll have spent my last night with you.”
Rose smiled. “You can’t use a line like that and not kiss me afterward.”
Kara lifted her eyebrows at the invitation. “Wasn’t planning on it.”
Kara raised up, slowly. She reached out and pushed Rose’s drenched, red hair behind her ear. Then, she leaned forward and brushed her lips against Rose’s.
Aside from the kiss in the temple, all of their kisses had been surprisingly soft tonight. Breathless and lingering, like the last touch of the night. If they were pretending the war didn’t exist, then why did every kiss feel like the last? Why did every kiss feel both sad and tender, at once? Rose leaned into the kiss, wanting to squash the sadness with eagerness—with desire. She lifted her hands and pushed the salty, wet hair out of Kara’s face, as she slipped her tongue into Kara’s mouth.
Kara moaned and instantly matched her pace, pressing back against her. She moved her hands to Rose’s waist, wordlessly urging Rose onto her knees. She pulled back, suddenly, gasping for breath. She pressed her forehead against Rose’s and closed her eyes. “Oh, Rose. You’re always saying you’re not sexy,” she sighed. “If you only knew…” Her lips curved at the edges. “What I feel. What I want…”
The breathlessness of Kara’s voice, the way each word held an undertone of need, must’ve been contagious—because Rose’s breaths grew shallow, as well. “What is it?” she whispered into the space between them. “What do you want?”
“You,” Kara growled. Her fingers tightened around Rose’s hip, and she opened her eyes, pinning Rose with a hungry look. She leaned in close, a wolfish smile spreading across her face. “Or would you like me to be more specific?”
Rose shuddered, even though Kara hadn’t said anything yet. She blamed the ocean breeze, of course. She crawled closer, following Kara’s urging. “Is there something specific,” she said, her face reddening, “that…you’re thinking about?”
Kara laughed softly. “Something I’ve been thinking about since earlier,” she said, her voice low and suggestive. “Something that you…put in my head.”
Rose smiled, as she realized what Kara had to be referring to. “Tell me.”
“Well,” Kara began, as Rose climbed into her lap, straddling her thighs, “you did tell me to ask.” A seductive smile curled at the corners of her lips. “So…”
Rose could feel her own lips curving, as well. “So?” she said breathlessly.
“So,” Kara whispered, tilting her face closer to Rose’s, “I want you to…”
Rose swallowed, her pulse increasing already. She wasn’t sure if she was blushing or flushed—or both—but her face felt very hot, all of the sudden. “Yes?”
Kara curled her hands around Rose’s thighs, tugging Rose closer, so that she could move her lips to Rose’s ear and whisper, “Lick every inch of my skin.”
Rose shuddered, a painfully intense wave of desire traveling through her, like electricity, shocking every nerve ending. She exhaled slowly, trying to get her emotions under control. She wanted to be sexy, for once. Not the awkward mess she usually was. She leaned back, and with a shy smile, she replied, “I’d love to.”
—
Afterward, they rested for a while, curled up together on a pile of clothes and jackets, gazing up at the stars. They didn’t talk. They just enjoyed each other’s presence in silence, still catching their breath after that long, passionate…activity.
Rose could barely admit to herself that she’d just made love on a beach. It just wasn’t the kind of thing she’d ever expected herself to do. It also wasn’t what she’d come out here to do. But she didn’t regret a moment of it. She never did—when she was with Kara—not even when it resulted in a terrible, sad heartbreak.
Lost in thought, Rose traced her fingers through the cold drops of water on Kara’s skin. She heard the soft, steady thud of Kara’s pulse in her ear—much slower than it had been a few hours before. She wasn’t totally sure that Kara was still awake, but she spoke up, anyway. “I have a crazy question,” Rose announced.
Kara laughed. So, maybe she was awake. “I love your crazy questions.”
Rose lifted her head, looking up at Kara. “What if we do save the world?”
“Now, Rose,” Kara said, her eyes wide, “that’s absolutely psychotic.”
“I know it’s not likely,” Rose said, “but what if? What would we do, then?”
“I suppose…we could,” Kara said, shrugging, “finally go on a real date.”
Rose jumped up, suddenly, as if Kara had just suggested the scariest thing in the universe. She sat up on her knees, shooting an appalled look at Kara. “No!”
Kara couldn’t help but laugh. “After everything we’ve been through the
past few months,” she paused, “everything we’ve done, you wouldn’t date me?”
Rose pushed her damp, wavy hair—that looked as frazzled as she did, at the moment—behind her ears and shrugged. “I’m not sure I even remember what a real date is!” Rose squeaked. “Like…does it involve flowers? Murder?!”
Kara snorted, “Both, in my experience.”
“What I do remember,” Rose said, “is that I’m terrible at them.”
Kara raised an eyebrow. “You said you were a terrible girlfriend, too.”
“I am!” Rose said defensively. “I’m a total disaster.”
Kara sat up, slowly, leaning toward Rose. “Yeah?” she said, affection and amusement sparkling in her intense, ice-blue eyes. “Well, I think you’re perfect.”
Rose froze, blinking in surprise. Her shoulders slowly relaxed, her panic dissolving into calm. Her lips curved, just as slowly, into a small, sheepish smile.
Kara’s smile deepened at the sight of Rose’s. “See? Absolutely perfect.”
“Hush,” Rose laughed, but her smile was bright, now. “Fine. A real date.”
Kara leaned back on her hands. “I can’t wait to take you out to dinner.”
“Funny,” Rose muttered, “but I don’t think any restaurants serve blood.”
“No, but I do,” Kara said with a wink, “and I’ll serve it anywhere.”
Rose shook her head at Kara’s relentlessness. “How long until sunrise?”
Kara tilted her head back, studying the sky with a frown. “Not long.”
Rose’s smile faded. “So, we’ll have to start thinking about the war again.”
“Yes,” Kara sighed, her gaze meeting Rose’s, “but tonight was perfect.”
“Yeah,” Rose said, a sad smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “It was.”
18
The Commander
Three months later…
Rose buried her hands deep in the front pocket of her hoodie, shivering, even beneath the shelter of her tent. “I think I should check the battlefield again.”
Colina stepped in front of the opening of the tent, blocking Rose’s way. “With all due respect, my Eklektos,” she laughed, “you’ve already checked three times, and I’ve been ordered to make sure you stay in your tent and warm up.”
“I’m fine,” Rose grumbled, even as she shivered violently. “Who would order you to do something so ridiculous, anyway? It was the princess, wasn’t it?”
Colina’s smile deepened. “Elise asked me, actually, and I happily agreed.”
Rose sighed in defeat. “Fine. I’ll stay inside—for Elise,” she agreed, “but can you see if someone will make sure all of our warriors are okay? I’m worried.”
“Ligeia has already done that,” Colina assured Rose. “Some of them are injured, but none of them were hit with the poisoned-blood bullets. Besides, even if they had been, our priestesses are here. We have enough potions to heal them.”
Rose nodded. “I was afraid I’d missed some of the bullets,” she admitted. “It was hard to see in that snowstorm.” She nestled deeper in her hoodie, shaking from the cold. “How many of ours are injured? Are they in any shape for travel?”
“Your warrior says we should camp here, again, for the day,” Colina told Rose. “She said we’re still a full night’s journey from the Village of the Undead.”
Rose nodded. “Kara’s the only one who knows the way. We’ll just have to hope she’s right,” she sighed, “and that the fact that we had to travel the entire country by foot didn’t throw her off.” She licked her chapped lips. “Where is she?”
“She and Erik are starting the fires,” Colina said. “A few of our warriors tried, but…in our ten thousand years, none of us have ever started a fire in snow.”
Rose laughed. “Yeah, I imagine it’s not a common issue on your island.”
“No,” Colina said with a laugh, “and only a few of us have ever traveled.”
“No way!” Rose gasped. “In ten thousand years, you never got restless?”
“Sometimes,” Colina said, “but secrecy was necessary for our survival.”
Rose nodded, giving her a sympathetic smile. “Everyone’s in their tents?”
“Yes, my Eklektos,” Colina assured her. “Every warrior has been helped to their tents. Ligeia has checked on them. And Zosime has insisted they all feed.”
“Feed?” Rose repeated, her brows high. “Has she predicted something?”
“Another battle,” Colina assumed. “Well, that’s Ligeia’s theory, anyway.”
Worry twisted at Rose’s brows. “And are they all feeding, like she asked?”
“Of course,” Colina laughed. “Zosime doesn’t take no for an answer.”
Rose felt her lips curve at the corners. “Yeah. I’ve noticed,” she laughed. She peered over Colina’s shoulder, through the mouth of the tent, staring out at the dark, snowy landscape. She noticed a familiar silhouette in the distance—with curves and angles that Rose never failed to recognize. Her bright blue gaze shifted back toward Colina. “Thanks for answering all of my never-ending questions.”
Colina laughed, “Answering questions is part of my job, my Eklektos.”
Rose pursed her lips. “But should it be your job?” she asked with genuine concern. “I mean, you shouldn’t have to work as a servant, if you don’t want to.”
“But I do want to,” Colina said, taking Rose by surprise. “It’s a job, like any other.” She smiled. “I volunteered for this job. I wanted to show the princess she could trust me—unlike other members of my family, who betrayed her trust.”
“But after ten thousand years,” Rose said, shrugging, “does she trust you?”
Colina’s smile faded. “Not yet,” she admitted, “but we’re working on it.”
“You deserve her trust,” Rose told her, “no matter what your family did.”
Colina stiffened, her pale blue eyes wide. She had that familiar look about her again—the one she had when they met. “I’ve dreamt of this day for so long!”
Rose squinted bewilderedly at that. “The sixteenth of December?”
Colina fell to her knees—on the icy ground—like a psychopath. “Thank you, my Eklektos,” she said, “for acknowledging me as someone worthy of trust!”
Kara stepped into the tent, at that moment, raising both eyebrows, as she saw the strange, prostrate blonde in her tent. She glanced up, meeting Rose’s gaze.
Rose shrugged helplessly. “I think someone hit the factory-reset button.”
Kara chuckled. “Colina,” she sang, “your princess was asking for you.”
Colina looked up at her. “Oh,” she said, blinking. She jumped to her feet and gave one last, quick bow. “Thanks again, my Eklektos. I’ll see you both later.”
Kara wiggled her fingers in a half-wave, as Colina ran out into the snowy night. She turned toward Rose, flashing a wolfish grin. “How’s my Commander?”
“Stop calling me that,” Rose muttered. She waved her hand at the mouth of the tent, which was flapping in the wind. “Did the princess really ask for her?”
“No,” Kara said with a wicked smirk, “but she’ll realize it soon enough.”
Rose shook her head in disapproval. “You’re terrible.”
“You love it,” Kara said dismissively. She stepped closer, the icy ground crunching beneath her boots. She reached out, pulling the hood of Rose’s hoodie over her long, red hair, further shielding Rose’s face. “Do you know what I love?”
“Daggers, throwing knives, battle-axes,” Rose listed, “women with witty, sarcastic remarks for everything?” She smiled. “Pretty much anything that cuts.”
Kara laughed. “Ooh, clever girl,” she murmured, as she leaned closer to Rose. “But you forgot to mention: watching my girlfriend win her fourth battle.”
Rose blushed. “The warriors won that battle. Not me. I just stopped the bullets and fought a few Assassins of Light. I didn’t fight as well as you guys did.”
&nbs
p; “We won,” Kara corrected, “because of you. You were calling the shots.”
Rose shrugged uncomfortably. “It was just a lucky strategy. That’s all.”
“When are you going to admit what everyone else can already see?” Kara asked, her smile gentle and affectionate. “You’re good at commanding armies.”
Rose shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t know anything about armies.”
Kara strolled over to the pile of blankets they’d slept on the day before, and she picked up a thick, wool blanket. She circled around Rose and draped the blanket around Rose’s trembling shoulders. “That might’ve been true, before we left the kingdom, but you’ve led the army in the last four attacks. You’ve learned.”
Rose sighed at the memories of her first few battles. Everything that the princess had warned them about had been true. The Assassins of Light had been waiting on them, as soon as they left the kingdom. They’d had humans searching everywhere for them. The journey that they’d expected to take weeks had already taken months—just because of all of the attacks. The Skotalian warriors, though, were incredible, and so far, they’d won every battle they’d fought. “I used reason and logic to come up with a few plans,” she said, dismissive again. “It was simple.”
“Your brilliance is winning battles,” Kara insisted. “You’re good at this.”
“No, I’m not,” Rose said, but even as she denied it, her chest felt lighter, just from Kara’s encouragement. Rose smiled nervously. “You really think so?”
“I wouldn’t say it, if I didn’t,” Kara assured her. “You know I’m brutally honest when it comes to war. For example, despite all of that training I’ve given you, you’re still a mediocre fighter.” She grinned. “But you’re a great strategist.”
Rose’s brows furrowed. “Now, I feel worse and better, at the same time.”
The Reign of Darkness Page 46