Page 78 of The King’s Commander

“Oh!” Grabbed from behind, I’m unable to reach my knife in time. But it seems I don’t need it.

Vanni pulls me by the hand, guiding me away from the crowd.

“What are you . . .”

Shoved sideways by the press of people, I’m grateful for the anchor of Vanni’s hand. He has a tight grip on me and doesn’t seem inclined to let go.

“Where are we going?”

“To the inn.”

The inn?

Indeed, although it catches me by surprise when he leads me not to the front but through the courtyard—his makeshift training yard—and then up a set of wooden stairs after looking around, presumably to be sure no one is watching.

Vanni released my hand as we first started to climb up, and has yet to say a word to me since.

How did he even see me in that crowd?

Where are we going?

When he opens a door and steps inside, I follow. I’d seen this back entrance to the rooms on the second floor before, but I’ve never been up here.

Squeezing past me, Vanni takes out a key and opens the last door at the end of the hallway. He pushes it open, and I follow him in.

“This isn’t how I’d planned to meet you today,” he says. “I went to the forge this morning.” He closes the door behind me. “But you weren’t there yet. I’d have returned sooner, but a ship appeared on the horizon and . . .”

He opens the shutters just slightly for air, both sets of them, partially illuminating a small but well-appointed room. There is not much inside but a bed, two chairs, and a wooden stand with a bowl of water and a strip of linen cloth next to it.

“This is where you’ve been staying.”

“Aye.”

Before I can ask another question, he’s there in front of me.

He takes me in his arms and draws me to him, his lips lowering to mine. I care not that it is highly improper for us to be here, in this room, alone. He is leaving and, like Amma, he will be gone forever. And maybe that’s why he dragged me from the docks to be here.

I give him back all of me.

Our tongues tangle in a kiss that consumes us both. A desperate one, at least on my part, born of loss and need to get even closer to him. Something takes over, and that something has me tugging on his tunic, wanting . . . more. Needing it.

Vanni says nothing as he pulls his tunic over his head. He watches me as I stare at his bare chest, now on full display. And when I reach out, hesitant, he covers my hands with his own and presses down, wordlessly giving me permission to explore. My touch is hesitant at first, but then my hands stray everywhere, savoring the warm, hard ridges of his chest. Vanni’s groan is the only sound between us, the room as still and silent as the courtyard below.

Everyone but us is down at the docks.

Two brass brooches at my shoulders hold the material of my mantle together. He must know this, because he reaches for them and looses them in but a moment. The overcoat spills to the ground, leaving just a long-sleeved shift behind.

When Vanni pulls me back to him, this time it is an entirely different experience. Without so many layers between us, I can feel his desire for me in every touch. In the melding of our lips. And in the way his hands work their way up from my hips, trailing along my waist and then moving higher. He cups my breasts, both of us all hands and touches, as if desperate to memorize each other. When he kisses my neck and then dips lower, I can no longer remain silent.

“I need all of you.”

“Aedre . . .”

“Do not deny me this.”

His breath is shallow, as if he were in pain.

“You don’t know—”