His eyes widen as he looks at me as if seeing me for the first time. He takes in the sheer plum dress, eyes roving over the lowcut neckline. His lips twist into a mischievous smirk, making him look more like himself than he has in days. “Why, are you scared?”
I roll my eyes. “I’m scared you’ll pull your stitches and all my hard work will be for nothing.”
“No, you are scared of me,” he says, voice low. “I can feel it.”
I push at his chest again, tempted to punch him in his wound. It’s then I realize the trails of black have all but disappeared from his torso. “I’m not scared. This is just highly inappropriate.” But now that he mentions it, perhaps I should be afraid. He clearly isn’t in his right mind, considering he woke up without memory of what happened. And even if he were in his right mind…my eyes involuntarily flash toward his antlers. If he wanted to, he could gut me here and now. I wouldn’t have time to scream.
“You’re thinking about what I did on the farm.”
I shoot him a scowl. “So, you do remember.”
A pained look crosses his face. “I won’t hurt you, Evie.”
I can’t help but stare at his antlers again, imagining them covered in blood and gore.
Aspen seems amused. “Curious? You keep looking.”
“Yes, I keep looking. There’s a pair of razor-sharp antlers just inches from my face. I’m trying not to get stabbed in the eye.” My words come out more breathless than I intend.
“I’m more than capable of handling my antlers. And how do you know they are razor sharp if you’ve never felt their cut?”
Part of me wants to push him away, make him stop his teasing, but another part of me is morbidly fascinated with his antlers, now that I know what they are capable of. There’s something enticing about facing the danger of them. I want to touch them, admire them, the same way I want to admire a well-crafted blade or scalpel. Do they feel like bone? Rock?
He rolls his eyes as if he can hear my thoughts. “You can touch them. You’re probably the first human in my presence who hasn’t tried.”
The first human who hasn’t tried.This makes me think of my sister. Didshetry to touch them? Were they ever close enough for her to do so? Or did she simply ask in her charmingly naive way? Without realizing it, my hand moves toward them, pulled by an invisible force.
Aspen leans closer, bracing himself on his forearms.
My fingers find the tip of one of the tines. It’s sharp, but not enough to pierce skin without pressure. I’m surprised to find how smooth the surface is, covered in soft velvet. I run my fingertips down the length of the main beam, then trace one of the lower tines that branch off it. I’m mesmerized. Thrilled to be touching such a delicate yet powerful weapon.
Aspen shudders.
I pause, my sense of self-awareness returning. “What was that for?”
“My antlers are very sensitive,” he says. His voice is quiet, breathy. “Every touch is both pleasure and pain.”
I pull my hand away, heat flooding my cheeks. I had no idea antlers held sensation. “Why in the bloody name of iron didn’t you tell me you could feel that?” I say through my teeth.
“Because I didn’t want you to stop.”
His words pull the breath from my lungs, and the intensity of his gaze holds me in place. This close, I can see his eyes like I never have before. They aren’t brown like I originally thought, but every color of autumn. Golds, bronze, emerald, and ruby swirl in his irises. I can’t stop myself from thinking it—he’s beautiful.The most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. And he’s looking at me like I’m beautiful too. A luxurious feast for a starving man. His full lips are so close to mine, I can feel his breath, smell the rosemary on his skin. I can’t help but remember our kiss during the mate ceremony, and that same strange fire roars in my chest.
As if he can feel it too, he closes the distance between us, lips crushing into mine. I don’t think to stop him, to fight him. I give in to the kiss, let it deepen. My body hums with a hungry desire, eager to consume more of him.
With his knees, he pushes one of my legs aside, then the other. As a reflex, I wrap them around his waist, drawing him closer. My lips part for his tongue, and a soft moan escapes his mouth. I bring one hand to his lower back, and the other explores the firm muscles of his chest, careful not to skate too close to his wound.
One of his hands leaves the bed to do some exploring of its own. I feel his fingers caress my neck, then turn my head to the side so his lips can trail over the skin where his fingers just were. His kisses move down my neck and across my collar bone, then trace lower along the neckline of my dress.
When his lips return to mine, I claim them eagerly. His hand slides from my neck and over the curve of my breast. I gasp, feeling the trail of his fingers through the spider silk, sensations multiplied as if his fingers were flames. His thumb makes lazy circles over the crest of my breast, and a shock of pleasure runs through me, so intense I arch my back to meet it. A fire ignites at the apex of my thighs, and I think I will die if it isn’t quelled.
His other hand finds my knee, traces up my thigh. I know where it’s going and I don’t care. I want it to go higher. Want him everywhere all at once. I have no control, no awareness but him. His fingers reach my dagger belt. He winces, then jolts upright. It’s enough to shatter the moment, bringing clarity to my mind.
My breaths come out heavy as I recover from the spell of passion. The spell that had me powerless. Vulnerable. Completely unlike myself. I pull away from him, straightening my dress. “What in the name of iron was that?”
Aspen puts the tip of his thumb to his mouth, as if soothing a burn. He winces again, shaking out his hand. “Why are you wearing that damn thing?”
I ignore the question, scooting farther away from him. “You did it again, didn’t you? You glamoured yourself to make me want you.”
