Read Online Siren's Song by Mary Weber - Free Book Online Page B

free of Draewulf’s control and Isobel’s treachery.
    His other thumb slides to my wrist and compresses so I can feel my own heart pulsing as well. A rhythm for a rhythm, like the storm descending on our ceiling. Out of sync but still in pattern. Full of harmonious beauty and cold and closeness.
    Oh hulls.
    That friction in the air becomes unbearable. Just like his eyes and his warm fingers against my hand, and his heart beat beat beating beneath my skin, burning my veins with tension.
    Hunger.
    Blast you, Eogan.
    I swallow before my lungs come undone right in front of him. But it’s too late because I can feel the ridge of bones over his heart expanding as he leans in closer, measuring the distance in inches between us so we are mere shadows of skin and sinew and breath. With an expression that says exactly what we are both hungry for.
    I freeze. Don’t move, Nym. Don’t breathe. Don’t break this moment. I just stare at this man who was strong enough to survive Draewulf. Who was strong enough to survive me and all I’ve done.
    Who was humble enough to survive his own history.
    His gaze moves to my throat, then stalls on my mouth and stays there. And in it I see the same look I’ve come to know so well, the thing that means more to me than any notion of desire ever could.
    His respect.
    My insides dissolve to match the rain coming down overhead as his breath catches. I hear it. I swear I hear it, except he doesn’t lean in farther, doesn’t press it as a shadow flits behind his gaze. As if he’s been sitting in this room, waiting for this moment, and now he can’t decide what to do with it. No—what he should do with it.
    He glances toward the door. “Nym, I—”
    That ache in his eyes becomes more pronounced.
    I frown.
    â€œWhen Draewulf was acting as me . . .”
    What did the queen say to him? Because it had to be her who gave him caution—who made his hesitancy so raw.
    â€œWere the things he did through me as bad as I imagine?”
    Oh hulls.
    I swallow. And now I am aching too.
    My lack of answer leads him to nod. “I see.”
    â€œIt wasn’t you.” Although I of all people know that doesn’t appease the guilt.
    â€œI know. I just keep thinking, what if there’s—?”
    I narrow my gaze. Not just at whatever he’s implying but at whatever’s been done to him. Because his words are interrupted by his coughing and his skin looks grayer than before.
    I look closer.
    Hulls. He really is ill.
    â€œWhat’d the queen do when she interrogated you?”
    He shakes his head. “I’m fi—”
    â€œWhat did that woman do?”
    â€œNothing. It’s not from her. It’s from my blocking ability trying to ward off her questions. I’ll be fine once my body gets rest.”
    I tug his arm to pull him down and myself up. Is he growing weaker? “Then rest while I go put a knife to her th—”
    He smiles and stops me. “Believe me, I’ve spent the past many hours thinking I’d like to fall asleep next to you while you angrily wield knives. Sadly”—he brushes a strand of hair from my shoulder—“we have too much—”
    A few feet away Kenan jerks into a sitting position, making me jump. “Bleeding hulls!” He grabs beneath his arm where he usually carries a blade. He swats at it a few times, then flips around to stare at us.
    â€œRelax, Kenan,” Eogan growls.
    â€œWhat happened? What did they do to us?”
    â€œDrugged you. You’ll survive.”
    Kenan’s scowl eases. He shifts position so he’s off the bed and squatting on his haunches. “I guess that’s more than I can say for them when I get—” He stops. And squints at Eogan’s gray face. “You look like litches.”
    â€œSo I hear.”
    â€œAnd he’s refusing to rest,” I say.
    Eogan waves us off. “I slept a little