His touch was infinitely gentle as he once again focused on his task. The feel of his hands in her hair, deliberate but tender, melted her very bones and sent pleasure rippling over her entire body. The effect he had on her was so potent, there was no point in resisting. Any vulnerability she’d felt faded until there was only this moment. This feeling.
Warmth flowed over her skin as a curl slid free to brush against the side of her neck. Her eyes were still closed, but she knew he touched the long lock.
“I wanted to do this the first day we met,” he whispered, his deep voice rougher than usual.
She opened her eyes, finding his reflection in the glass. He was working on another pin with more care than she’d ever bothered to take, his throat bobbing.
Her throat was strangely dry, making her words come out with a slight rasp. “You did?”
“Saints, yes.” He located another pin and slowly pulled it free. “I wanted to unpin your hair to see how long it was.” His eyes lifted, catching hers in the mirror. “The first moment I saw you, I was mesmerized. With the sun coming into thechapel behind you, your red hair was lit up, glowing like a fire.” The corner of his mouth lifted, and his dimple flashed. “I should have known right then you’d have a soul of fire, too.”
Amryn hardly dared to breathe. This intimate moment felt fragile. So perfect, she feared she was imagining it.
Carver retrieved another pin. Another. Each time he reached past her to set them on the vanity, his front brushed her back, until there were only a handful of pins left and the majority of her hair trailed down her back.
His hand sank into her hair, his fingertips tunneling until they glanced over the nape of her neck. A shiver rushed down her spine, tingles racing over her skin. “I’m sorry if tonight was difficult for you,” he whispered. “Being around so many people . . . I hadn’t considered that until we were already there. I hope it didn’t cause you too much discomfort.”
Discomfort was the last thing on her mind right now. “It wasn’t a problem.”
In the mirror, she caught his frown. “It wasn’t too overwhelming?”
The bloodstone around her neck pulsed once. Her heart tripped. But she refused to keep this from him. Twisting on her seat, she met Carver’s puzzled gaze. “I was able to use the bloodstone to mute the emotions of the crowd.”
He blinked. “You . . . used the bloodstone?”
She felt a trickle of guilt. “It was instinctive. But it muted things enough to make the crowd bearable.”
He drew back slightly. “You promised you weren’t going to use it for anything else. Just to shield you.”
“Itwasshielding me.”
His brows knit. “You know what I mean.”
She bit her lip. “I promise I’m being careful. I’m not tapping into its full power. What I did tonight . . . I’ve never been that comfortable in a crowd before. I didn’t lose track of my own emotions or drown in all the others in the room.”
“I’m glad you weren’t in pain, I just worry about you relying on the bloodstone so much.”
“I know. But I think this is an extension of the shield I was already using. It didn’t feel dangerous.”
Carver searched her eyes, and she could feel the war waging inside him. “Thank you for telling me,” he finally said. He wasn’t condoning her use of the bloodstone, she knew that. But he was choosing to trust her judgment. For now, at least.
The click of the lock disengaging was loud in the silence. Carver took a step back as Ahmi entered the suite.
Amryn’s heart clenched at the sudden distance between them.
The woman’s eyes darted between them, and it was obvious she knew she’d interrupted something. “My apologies,” she said. “I can return later . . .?”
“No,” Carver said at once. “I’ll leave you to it.” He cleared his throat, shoved his emotions down, then walked away, leaving Amryn to stare after him.
Chapter 28
Carver
“Idon’tlikethis,”Carver said, knowing it wouldn’t change a bloody thing.
Amryn glanced up at him. She’d just finished slipping her shoes on, and he couldn’t help but notice the way the morning sunlight caught in her fiery hair as it streamed in from the balcony behind her.
His fingers itched with the desire to touch those soft curls again, like he had five nights ago. He’d nearly done it again every morning since, because he always woke before her. In the perfect stillness of those moments, holding her while she continued to sleep, it took everything he had not to do more than just stare at her. He’d been able to study every light freckle that dusted her skin. Watched as the morning sunlight played over her shining red hair. He’d also tracked the healing wound on her arm, which no longer needed a bandage.
