Chapter 21: A Door That Shuts

The Warden gave us her own room, the one house on the river street that had not burned.

It had a real bed and a door with a bolt.

Corvin shot the bolt behind us and turned around, and the lamp on the table lit the side of his face.

I had never seen him look at me like that.

He wasn't hungry, or fevered, or angry.

He looked steady and certain, and he looked at me as if I were already his.

"Come here," I said.

"No." His voice was low. "You come here. I want to watch you do it."

I crossed the room with my hands at my sides.

He stayed where he was, with his back against the door, and let me close the last step.

I put my palms flat on his chest.

His heart was pounding.

"You're nervous," I said.

"You've never been mine in a bed."

"I've been yours in a tent and a sickroom."

"Not like this."

I pulled his shirt off him.

I kissed the scar across his hand, and then the bite mark I'd put there, healed to a thin silver crescent.

He shut his eyes.

"Willa."

"Say my name again."

"Willa," he said, rough. "Fuck."

He lifted me.

My back hit the door, and my legs went around his waist, and his mouth came down on mine so hard I tasted blood.

I tore at the buttons of my shirt.

He pushed it off my shoulders, and his lips found my breast and his teeth grazed the nipple.

I cried out and arched into him.

"Louder," he said against my skin. "Nobody's listening. I want to hear all of it."

He carried me to the bed and dropped me on my back.

He stripped off my trousers.

He knelt between my thighs on the floor, and put his hands under my knees, and pushed them up and apart.

"Corvin..."

"Let me."

He put his mouth on my pussy.

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