But I can only pay attention to them for the barest of moments in my peripheral vision, because I know better than to take my eye off the male stalking me.
The bonfire is to my left, draping a blanket of orange over the snowy ground, casting everything in fiery light.
“You still look scared,” Rip says as he comes to a stop in front of me.
“I’d be stupid not to be.”
I don’t care if he really doesn’t rip people’s heads off. He’s still a killer. Still capable of cutting down armies and slaying kingdoms. His entire body sings with strength. I can almost hear the vibrato of violence as it hums through his veins.
“You’re right.” He shrugs off his fitted leather coat and drops it to the ground. My heart starts to pound.
His eyes stroke over the length of my body, probably to set me even more on edge. “Do you want to take off your feathers, Goldfinch?”
I clutch my own coat to my chest. “No, thanks.”
With lips twitching, his hands come up, deft fingers unlacing the brown straps across his jerkin. The spikes along his forearms and back recede beneath his skin before he slips the leather off and tosses it away.
He watches me as he reaches behind him, pulling the black cotton tunic off and dropping it on the pile. Then he’s standing there bare-chested in front of me, and time freezes, like suspended sand in an hourglass, grains paused in their plummet.
I shiver from the intimidation of seeing him like this, because heisintimidating. But he’s also beautiful. Rip has otherworldly allure and unmistakable magnetism.
I suddenly understand the insects that fly willingly into carnivorous plants. The draw is too strong, the pull too bewitching, that you forget about the danger until you’re already trapped inside.
Why is it thathecan undress, and yet, it makesmefeel vulnerable?
Bright side? At least the view is nice.
My eyes drift of their own accord as I take in just how strong Rip really is. His body is a vessel for battle. Every single muscle has been worked to perfection, and the sight makes my mouth go dry.
His pale skin isn’t ghostly or sickly like Malina’s. It’s chiseled, with a light dusting of hair on his chest, but my eyes move to the row of black dots that go up his forearms.
It should look odd, or freakish, or scary, but it’s none of those things.
He’s so entirelyfae.
He stands in front of me, not hiding, but letting me see, letting me assess, and I can tell from his stance that he’s proud of who he is. Ofwhathe is.
It makes something in me ache. I can’t look away from the fierce refinement of him, the predatory grace. My heartbeat pounds in my ears, my lips parting with a shaken breath.
Before I can stop myself, I’ve stepped forward, so close that my skirts brush against his pants. Rip goes still. I don’t think he’s breathing.
I stare at the four spots from wrist to elbow where the spikes have sunken in. There’s just the slightest peek of them beneath the separation of his skin, like a notch in his arm. There’s no strange bulging or odd angles with them retracted. It’s as if they’ve melded into his bones.
“Incredible...” My whisper passes unbidden.
Unable to help myself, I lift my hand, my fingertips brushing against the black indentations in his ashen-white skin. I hiss out a surprised breath when I feel the spike catch on the fabric of my glove, the sharp tip of a talon ready to pierce.
Rip clears his throat, and the noise yanks me out of my reverie.
Mortified that I’d touched him so boldly, I snatch my hand back. “I’m sorry,” I blurt. “I don’t know what came over me.”
The blacks of Rip’s eyes, indistinguishable between iris and pupil, look larger right now, like the color is taking over. “Youdon’t like to be touched. I don’t seem to mind so much.”
My cheeks go hot. There’s something there in his voice. A caress that smoothed over its harsh edges and slid over my skin. It scares me, even as it draws me in.
My already heated face burns hotter, but I don’t look away, don’t back up. I’m that beguiled insect, caught in his carnivorous clutches, ready to be devoured.
All this time, I’ve been cautious of him. Cautious because of his rumored viciousness, of the danger he poses to my secrets, of his threat to Midas.
