I leaned forward, drawn to him like a moth to a flame, my lips brushing against his, a tentative exploration. And oh, it was delicious.
A spark ignited, a wildfire spreading through my veins. I couldn’t stop at one. His lips moved against mine, soft yet insistent, pushing them apart, his tongue finding mine in a dance that stole my breath away. I sighed into the kiss, all thoughts of my mission, my sister, and my world fading into the background.
Take me now, I thought, a desperate plea echoing in the silent spaces between our breaths.
The kiss ended far too soon, leaving me breathless and wanting more. He slowly pulled away, his fingers tracing the curve of my cheek, down my neck, to the hollow of my collarbone, finally resting in the empty space where theSeolaisshould have been.
“Let’s go talk,” he murmured, his voice husky and low.
Talk?Didn’t he understand? If I were going to break the rules, to steal a moment of feeling for myself, it had to be now, before reality crashed down again.
But he was standing there, his hand outstretched, an invitation I couldn’t refuse. The need to touch him, to feel the warmth of his skin against mine, was a current too strong to fight. I took his hand, my fingers instinctively intertwining with his.
“Come and have something to eat,” he said, his voice a low murmur that vibrated through me.
I clutched the sheet around me like a shield, but as he gently tugged me forward, it slipped from my grasp, pooling at my feet. I stood before him, exposed in the soft morning light filtering through the window. He turned fully, his gaze sweeping over me, deliberate and appreciative. There was no room for embarrassment because this was my form, unadorned. Clothes were a strange human custom, unnecessary in my world.
He stepped closer, the air crackling between us. Instead of reaching for my face, his free hand settled lightly on the curve of my waist, his thumb brushing against the sensitive skin just above my hip. A sharp intake of breath was my only response, heat blooming where he touched. He growled softly, a primal sound that resonated deep in my chest, and then his lips were on mine again.
This kiss was different. It was a consuming fire burning through me, scorching away the last vestiges of my control, leaving me hot and aching for more. I clung to him, my hands finding purchase in his hair, pulling him closer, wanting to erase the space that separated us.
“My parents are around,” he whispered against my lips, his breath warm on my skin.
A twinge of disappointment shot through me.If only we were alone. What might have happened then?The thought tantalized me, a forbidden fruit I desperately wanted to taste.
He pulled away, leaving me standing there, naked and vulnerable, unsure of what to do. He crossed the room to a neatly folded pile of clothes and picked up a small, delicate garment.
“I’m guessing you might need some help with this,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.
He held out the delicate scrap of fabric. “Panties,” he murmured, the word a caress against my ear.
He gently helped me step into them, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, igniting a fire that spread through my core. A soft gasp escaped my lips.
“Shorts,” he said, his voice husky, his hand lingering on my hip as he guided the fabric over my legs.
The unfamiliar friction of denim felt abrasive against my skin, and I wished for the coolness of the river. I swayed toward him, drawn to his warmth, the scent of him filling my senses.
“Bra,” he whispered, his fingers grazing my bare back as he fastened the clasp. I shivered at his touch, my nipples hardening against the unfamiliar fabric, which felt like a constricting cage.
“So beautiful,” he moaned, his gaze fixed on my chest. A blush crept up my neck, a sensation both foreign and exhilarating.
“Shirt,” he said, sliding the soft cotton over my head, his hands cupping my shoulders for a fleeting moment. As the fabric settled, my gaze fell on theSeolais, resting against the strong column of his throat. My clan’s pendant. On him. The sight ignited a mix of comfort and alarm. It was another chain binding me to this human and this world. I leaned into his touch, my body humming with a desire I couldn’t name, couldn’t understand, but craved nonetheless.
“There,” he said softly, his fingers smoothing the fabric against my skin. “You’re dressed.”
My breath caught in my throat.Dressed?This was no simple act but a torment, a delicious, agonizing torture. The heat of his skin so close to mine, the whisper of his touch, the low rumble of his voice—it all conspired to awaken something within me, something wild and untamed. Something dangerous.
He kneeled, picked up a pair of sandals, and slipped them onto my feet, his fingers deftly tying the straps around my ankles.
“No sign of your injury today,” he observed, his gaze lingering on my feet.
“I am fully healed now,” I replied, the words a reminder of the truth I was so desperately trying to hide but failing at. He knew I wasn’t human and that I was Encantado.
The truth was that this intoxicating, forbidden dance we were engaged in could only end in heartbreak. And I knew, with a sudden, stark clarity, that this powerful connection was not just a danger, but a tool. To get the help I needed and find the flower for my sister, I would have to risk my heart. I would have to let him in, even if it destroyed me.
CHAPTER 11
Caio
