A Promise of Iron Brandon McCoy (howl and other poems TXT) 📖

one I had not seen before, and I thought I was studied in all her looks.

Her lips were warm as she pressed them against my own. Her mouth tasted sweet. I can’t describe the rush of life, the spark, the fire that fanned the moment her mouth opened to mine. So I won’t. I will leave you with the understanding that kissing her was one of the single defining moments of my life.

I leaned into the embrace and placed my hands gently on her hips. I pulled her close. Her body responded, her back arching slightly as she let out a soft appreciative moan. Another time, another woman, I would be ordinary at best, experienced, but unmemorable. With the guiding hand of her practiced lips, I was a soul possessed. Her tongue brushed softly against my own. My eyes closed, and lost breath with the sensation.

Then it was over. She backed away slowly but not abruptly. At first, I thought I had done something wrong, that I had been to forward. I was relieved when I saw her holding the same look of satisfaction that mirrored my own. I had done nothing wrong this night, and this woman, quin willing, held the same desire for me that sent aches coursing through my body. The look she held for me was one of confidence, one of promise, one that stated firmly that I belonged to her now.

“Did you enjoy your third present?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“It was more than I ever imagined,” I whispered.

“I have a good imagination,” she teased, biting the corner of her lip.

From the distance, came a slow rhythmic clapping. “Now thas about time, then isn’t it?” Crylwin shouted, “ ‘bout damn time!”

Lira squeezed my hand. It was warm to the touch, warmer now than before. It was a hand I didn’t want to let go of, and yet I did, just as her father emerged from the open doorway.

Lord Edrogan Valerius was a thin man with hard angular features. The lamplight that framed the doorway echoed along his expressionless face menacingly. He was dressed in his night robe of thick black wool, a robe more a tribute to northern weather than his Cyllian heritage. His arms were folded across his chest, his demeanor unwelcoming.

Lira looked towards his direction but did not back away from me.

“Father, this is Faerin. He and Crylwin were just walking me…”

“Get in the house, Lira,” he interrupted. His voice was calm and even, but it held such an air of authority that had he said the same words to me, I would have been up the stairs and in the house before he was able to remove his belt.

“Father,” she protested, “you’re being rude.”

He did not move from the doorway, nor did he spare the slightest of looks at me. His eyes were ice and fixed squarely on his daughter.

“Father,” she pleaded, “you’re embarrassing me.”

He scoffed.

Lira looked down at her feet then back up at me. Tears formed around her eyes, eyes that moments ago held warmth and fire and love. She raised her hand to wipe away the weakness. As she turned to face her father, her look was strong and determined.

She clenched her jaw. “I am not a child.”

“That’s exactly what you are!” he shouted.

I could hear footsteps approaching from two directions. One was from behind the house, likely the house guard coming to investigate the noise. The other was that of Crylwin, hastily jogging up the walkway. This would not end well. I couldn’t be here; I couldn’t let this happen. I needed to leave.

“Sir, we were just leaving!” I said hastily. “If you permit me?”

I didn’t wait for his response. I turned to face Lira; her gaze was locked with that of her father. She was defiant and powerful, but this fight would end poorly for all if I remained another second.

“Lira…I…”

She turned to me, and with perfect lips, whispered, “Go.”

I needed no further encouragement.

“Good evening, sir…Lira.”

I met Crylwin halfway along the path and grabbed his arm to intercept. He pulled it free in protest.

“We need to leave,” I commanded. “I need to leave.”

He paused as he looked at the doorway.

“Please,” I said.

It was enough. Crylwin may not have understood all that was at stake, but he understood enough to know that he could not draw his sword to save me on this night, not without making things worse. He turned in stride, and we jogged off the property together. I looked back at the entryway and saw two guards conversing with Lira’s father. They did not pursue. I closed the gate behind me and gave one final look as Lira ascended the stairs into the house. I did not envy her tonight.

As we left her, his property, Crylwin fell into step next to me. We covered a few blocks before he spoke. “Ya mind if I sleep at yer place? I’m likely to fall off my horse if I try to ride.”

I nodded. It wasn’t like he could rent a carriage; no one would risk a ride to Windshear in the middle of the night, no matter how well armed the passenger.

He said little else as we walked back to the shop. Either so firmly in his cups that his focus was on controlling his bodily functions or just sober enough to realize his words would only spoil what had been a terrible, fantastic evening. Either way, he was quiet, and I was left to savor thoughts of Lira.

I opened the door to the shop; it was dark. A soft yellow light flickered in from my apartment above the main floor. The light was compliments of the curfew lamps right outside my window. Crylwin barged in; he knew his way and seemed a man with a purpose.

I grabbed the lamp I kept by the door and walked over to the hearth at the center of the room. I took a thin dowel from the workbench on the way and stirred the coals. They were mostly covered