The Books

The flames crackled and hissed, illuminating Elderin’s high cheekbones and beautifully curved lips. “So, how’s your back?” she asked, her tone severe but not unkind. The crisp Change air raised goosebumps on Rona’s arms as her gaze lingered on her neck and collarbone, perhaps too long. Rona shivered, drawing her cloak tighter, and moved a little closer to the warmth radiating from the fire. “Well, I haven’t had a massage in ages,” she replied. “Minqa’s back isn’t exactly ergonomic, though I’ve grown to love her anyway.” “Am I growing on you, too?” Elderin asked, staring her down with the most innocent eyes, betrayed by the subtle way she bit her lower lip. Not what I expected for our first night outside, Rona thought, but a welcome surprise nonetheless.

“There you are,” Owen said, his voice a low murmur as he sat down, completing their trio. Before Rona could reply, he snatched her mug and drained the last of the hot chocolate. A smudge of spiced cream clung to his beard, and it took every ounce of Rona’s self-control not to lean in and kiss it from his stupidly handsome smile. "Get a grip, shrub", she chided herself, looking away to keep her composure. She watched as the rest of the ‘Rats’ retreated for the night, leaving the three of them in a serene, intimate bubble by the fire. But Rona saw in Owen’s eyes that even this wasn’t private enough. “Let’s go back,” he said, his voice a low, husky lure. The warm, open energy he radiated was a world away from his usual tense watchfulness, a deliberate, disarming invitation that sent an ache through Rona’s chest, reminding her of the night they had danced.

Night fell like a hammer, swift and absolute. The air by the dying fire smelled of pine resin. Owen’s focus narrowed to Rona. She stood a few feet away, bathed in starlight, the wind whipping strands of her short hair across her face. She tucked them back, the movement fluid and unconscious. The firelight caught the gold in her freckles, turning them into a map of constellations on her skin.