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"Why does Byram hate your people so much?" The question was out before he could think.
"Because we know the truth."
Keiran leaned in close. One of his hands moved up to cup the back of Gaige's head, while the other slid around his waist. The heat of his breath caressed Gaige's neck, making his pulse roar.
"That we didn't start the war a hundred years ago. He did."
And then the damp heat of Keiran's tongue burrowed into Gaige's ear. His legs went numb. He staggered back a step, glad for the support of the cool rock wall against his back. A low groan escaped him and he buried his hands in Keiran's hair, tugging free the bit of leather holding it, and savoring the soft, thick feel of it sliding through his fingers.
A deep ache throbbing in his groin, Gaige pulled Keiran's mouth toward his and, at long last, tasted what he'd craved since he'd first met this man.
Their mouths and tongues moved together with desperation, as if each had been starving for the other much too long. Keiran tasted of the spicy wine, of earthy passion, and of something powerful and mysterious that filled Gaige's body with a tingling energy. Draegan magick? Gaige had to wonder.
Their bodies notched together perfectly--hard heat pressed to hard heat--and Gaige wasn't surprised to discover that, in spite of their current situation, trapped in a tiny cave with the high sorcerer's troops nearby, Keiran was as turned on as he was.
The draegan pulled away first, but not far. "I've wanted to do that since I first met you," he whispered against Gaige's lips.
"As have I."
"Was it worth the wait?"
Gaige chuckled softly. "You have to ask?"