Recent content by Lynus Caerwyn

Lynus huffed out a breath when she spoke of his mother, his expression softening, shadowed by a hint of ache. “We can write to her…” he murmured, though even as he said it, doubt flickered in his gaze. It was a promise he wasn’t certain he could keep, not with oceans and politics between them...

Lynus barked a laugh at her “divorcing” remark, shaking his head as he leaned down to steal another kiss. “Not a chance, wife. You’d make half of Oban swoon and I’d have to duel every bloody one of them until you decided I was worth remarrying.” His grin widened, though his eyes softened at the...

Lynus nodded as she spoke of Brett, a smile tugging faintly at his lips. “He reminds me very much of Arryn at his age…” he murmured, though the words pressed hard against the ache in his ribs. When she spoke of her fears for a daughter, his brow knit, and he cupped her face in both hands...

His eyes creased with a smile as he looked down at her, seeing the shimmer in her lashes again. “Sentimental? Me?..” he chuckled under his breath, pressing her in closer. “I’ll try my best,” he teased gently, his arms tightening around her. At her questions, his mouth curved into a smirk and he...

He held her close as they swayed, the music drifting around them. When she looked up at him, Lynus met her gaze, his own softened by the glow of lantern light. One hand rose to cup her face, thumb brushing tenderly over her cheek as though memorising her in the moment. “So fucking beautiful…”...

Lynus’ quiet laugh rumbled against her as he shook his head slightly. “You’re beautiful,” he corrected softly, his lips curving into a smile. “And Caerwyn,” he murmured, letting the name linger in the air between them, “means ‘blessed fortress.’ It means a fresh start. It means that you are...

Lynus laughed softly under his breath, shaking his head as her brows arched at him. “No more, I promise,” he teased, though there was a quiet warmth in his eyes as he watched her clutch her stomach. When her plea came, he sobered. A sigh escaped him as he leaned forward, pressing a lingering...

Isla’s surprise pulled a breathy laugh from Lynus, and he lifted both hands in mock surrender. “Not a word,” he swore, though the corner of his mouth tugged upward. Brett shifted a little, glancing between Isla’s face and her belly with a sheepish grin. “I guess I... well, you didn’t eat much...

A fresh wave of guilt speared through Lynus as she refused his apology. “Precisely. We both were.” His voice was rough. “But it was selfish of me to try and carry that grief alone.” He held her gaze as she cupped his face, and something in his chest cracked open. The kisses she pressed to him...

Lynus had found himself at the bottom of a bottle more than once during the crossing. The first time had been almost immediate. The sharp, burning numbness had been a relief after everything had happened, a haze that dulled the pain and blurred the memory of Arryn’s last breath. But each morning...

The breath that escaped him when Isla held him felt like it ripped straight from his chest. She told him it wasn’t his fault, but how could that be true? He had trusted Arryn with his life, he always had, but what made his life worth more than Arryn’s? Why had Arryn always been so ready to...

Lynus sat there, hunched forward on the edge of the narrow bed, elbows braced against his knees, staring at his hands, still stained faintly pink with blood despite the healer's careful washing. His whole body ached, but it was a distant, meaningless thing, shallow compared to the cavern inside...

There was nothing Lynus could do to stop the tears that blurred his sight. They cut through the blood streaking his face, unbidden, unstoppable. Even as he knelt in the mud beside him, he saw not the man before him, broken and bleeding, but the boy he had once found on the streets. The boy who...

Blood ran hot down the side of his face, stinging his eye, making his vision blur and tilt with every breath. He could hear Isla, her voice strangled with fear, then the violent clash of steel and the guttural struggle of two men locked together. He forced his body onto its side, teeth gritted...

The fight was a blur of pain and steel and blood. Every clash reverberated through the bolt in his shoulder, sending molten agony sparking down his arm and straight into his marrow. His arm burned, his shirt sodden with blood, but fury kept him upright, kept him pressing forward. This was the...