The steam was a thick, opaque curtain that separated them from the world of steel and duty.
Soren didn't just move toward her; he glided through the turquoise water with the silent, predatory grace of a creature born to the frost. He crossed the spring in two powerful strokes, and before Eris could even draw a breath, his hands were on her.
He pulled her against him, his skin a shocking, delicious chill against the fire-heated planes of her body. Eris let out a jagged breath, her head falling back against his shoulder. "Took you long enough," she whispered, her voice trembling.
"I don't hate your guts." She continued, letting the needy emperor bury his face in her neck.
"You're cruel to me, Eris," he murmured, his voice a low, vibrating hum that she felt in her very marrow. His lips brushed the damp line of her jaw, seeking the sensitive skin beneath.
