Too late, Oriana realized what he was doing. A brand new tree appeared in place of the felled one in a blink, as if he had never cut it down at all.
“The boy was right,” Garren whispered to himself, brow scrunched.
“Garren, you should not have done that with your blade,” she said, reaching for the sword hanging loosely in his hand, expecting to see cracked metal and chipped pieces along the edge, but the blade remained completely intact.
“Did you see that?” he said, still staring at where the new tree had materialized in confused awe.
She ignored him. Grabbing the sword from his grasp, she ran a thumb along the perfect, sharpened edge.
“Careful!” he yelled, moving to snatch it back from her.
“Ouch!” Oriana pulled her thumb quickly away from the sword, watching as red blood welled.
She froze, watching a drop traveled down the length of her thumb and dripped onto the grassy field. “Impossible,” she breathed.
“Are you alright? Here, let me see.” Garren took the blade from her and reached out for her injured hand, but the wound had already begun to heal, sealing just as he grabbed her.
“It’s fine,” she said, pulling her hand from his grip. “Just a scratch, it’s already clotting.”
Garren narrowed his eyes at her before wiping her blood from his blade and sheathing it once again.
“Wh–where did you get that sword?”
“I made it,” he said simply.
“You made it?” Oriana heard herself say, but her mind had traveled elsewhere, trying to make sense of how a blade Garren himself created could have somehow broken through the limitations of her curse and sliced her finger.
“My father was the best blacksmith in Cirus, he taught me well.”
“We should head back,” Oriana blurted, turning and gliding into the forest.
“Wait.” Garren grabbed her hand, spinning her around and yanking her until she was flush against his chest. “What just happened? Something has unsettled you. Tell me.”
“N–nothing,” her voice wavered as she peered into his eyes. They were like whirling pools of molten silver, eyes you could get lost in if you looked into them for too long.
There was something about the way he looked at her, as if she was the only thing he could see. As if all else had fallen away, and it was just the two of them in an endless void, blissfully alone, without the weight of the world sitting upon their shoulders. There was a power and passion hidden there that left her utterly enraptured. That tug, the palpable connection between them, pulled taut with an iron grip that refused to relinquish its hold.
“What is it about you?” he whispered, bringing his hand up to brush a stray lock of hair behind her ear. He lingered there, gently rubbing his thumb along the outer edge of her ear.
“What is it about you?” she mirrored back to him, desire lacing her words. This man was an unknown, something she had never encountered before. All she wished to do was to peel him back layer by layer, to know him more fully–not only intellectually, but intimately.
“Oriana, I–” Garren’s words whispered over her neck, sending tendrils of excitement across her chest and down her back. He bent his head closer, and she pushed herself up to her toes, stopping just before their lips touched. “That night in the market square, I–” He couldn’t seem to find the words.
She let a hand travel up to rest on his chest, as his thumb slid along her cheek, his hand cupping around the back of her neck.
“I took advantage, and I shouldn’t have…”
“Yes, you should have,” she breathed, closing the distance between them, unable to withstand the slow building heat coursing through her any longer.
She knew he had felt the same tidal wave of need wash over him because his arms instantly tightened around her, lifting her off the earth.
Oriana wrapped her legs around his torso, and he groaned into her mouth. She explored him with wanton desire, reveling in the pleasure of his kiss, his hard body pressed against her. He smelled of leather mixed with earth, lemon, and something sweet that had her desperately pulling him closer.
He growled at her desperation. “This is…” he whispered against her lips.
“Right,” she finished, reaching a hand down to the laces of his pants, fumbling to untie them.
But then the unthinkable happened, and he stopped her, stilling her wandering hand and pulling away from their kiss. He set her back on the ground.. She looked up at him with a questioning gaze, finding that the silver pools of his eyes had turned to thunderous storm clouds.
