Chapter 516: Scars and Promises (2)
"Eventually."
She huffed—half laugh, half resigned sigh—then brushed hair from his forehead. She kissed exactly where the new scar bisected his hairline, lingering an extra heartbeat, then eased lower, her lips grazing down to rest at the corner of his mouth. She whispered against him, breath warm, "Don’t faint. I’m not done yet."
Her kiss deepened gradually, molten lava under ice. It neither demanded nor yielded, simply enveloped him, asking him to stay alive inside it. Time thickened; sounds blurred. He tasted lilac, tasted smoke, tasted promise.
When they separated, exhalations escaped the circle like arrows loosed—half teasing, half reverent.
Alina snapped out of the trance first. She pumped a fist in the air. "TENT. NOW."
A ripple of laughter, half joyous, half predatory, swept the group. Lyan found his hand seized by three different women simultaneously; another untied his cloak; someone else tugged a strap on his greaves. Boots scuffed dust as they herded him like celebratory wolves toward the largest campaign pavilion, torches bobbing behind them.
The last thing he saw before ducking through the canvas flap was Josephine doubled over with laughter, calling after him, "Try to stay conscious till dawn, hero!"
They dragged him inside without waiting.
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