“My blood is my own.” I lift up my chin. “I wagered he could keep whatever he wanted from it.”
“You know that’s not a safe bet.”
“He won’t want me,” I promise. “He wants what’s in my blood.”
“I’m not willing to take that risk.”
“You know what I think? I think you’re using the mask as an excuse, a way to dismiss your behavior so that you won’t feel so guilty when you leave.”
Hurt flashes in his eyes. For a moment, I think I’ve said too much. But then his jaw clenches, his eyes hardening. “You don’t understand.”
“I understand plenty. You once told me you dreamed of having a family. But I guess… just not with me.” I gesture down my marked body, shame contorting my face. “Not now I’m this.”
He flinches as if I’ve struck him, his eyes squeezing shut.
“That’s all I’ve ever wanted. You’re my everything, Flori.” His voice cracks with emotion. “From the first time I heard yourlittle voice echo in the well, I knew you were the one for me.” His brows knit together. “And not because you seemed weak, like something that needed to be saved. But because your voice amplified, grew stronger. Do you remember what you said to me when I asked if you needed help?”
I shrug. “Maybe.”
“In your usual stubborn tone, you said, ‘Help is for victims. I don’t need help.’”
“Well, that was dumb.” I scowl.
His eyes crinkle. “You were this larger than life girl, defying danger—yet you begged me to stay with you overnight. You were afraid of the dark.”
“Clearly, I was a willful child full of contradictions.”
“One who trusted me, a stranger, a nobody orphan of war, to watch over you.” Sad eyes meet mine. “I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you, Flori.”
My heart swells. “Then be with me. Fight for us. Fight like hell, dammit.”
Something dangerous and feral comes over him, electrifying the air. Oh no. I poked the bear. He untangles himself from the baldric and prowls closer, blue eyes capturing mine until he’s looming over me, stealing my sense by existing.
“Take it off.” His demand is guttural.
“Wh-what?” I glance down. His shirt?
“Take. It. Off.”
Startling at the violence in his voice, I untie the pink sash. If he wants his shirt back, fine. Whatever. I’ll walk around naked. If he doesn’t want me, I don’t care, anyway. My heart can’t take it.
Strong hands latch around my wrists, halting my progress. He growls. When I brave a look at his face, I see nothing coherent in his eyes. It’s all wild instinct and hot temper. I don’tthink he can form words, such is the force of his emotion. Or the curse. Slowly, his trembling hands guide mine to his mask.
My fingers hover just over the painted silk, ready to hook over the edge. His breathing is uneven and ragged. Each exhalation warps that sharp, toothy grin. All that is left of the man I know is hunger and something darker, more primal.
“Drayven,” I whisper, unsure if I’m summoning him back or daring him to let go completely. “I love you.”
He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t even blink.
His hands loosen on mine only enough to let me feel his intent rather than crush me outright. The message is clear—this is my choice now, but it’s also a warning.
I should hesitate. I should stop and consider what lies ahead if I remove the mask—the freedom of other brides, other women, me. Instead, I am selfish. I think only of my aching, lonely heart here and now. I think of how many nights I dreamed of being with him.
I unhook the fastenings around his ears and lower the mask. The silk folds and the smile collapses. Drayven inhales. Logic bleeds into his eyes. But only for a moment. Then all I see is want.
His lips crash down on mine. One hand tangles in my hair, yanking my head back to deepen the kiss while the other grips my hip and he tugs me closer, slamming my body against his. His kiss is savage and consuming. Bruising. Validating.
I moan into Drayven’s mouth and fumble for his jacket buttons. We break apart only for him to help me. Before he pops the last button, I rip apart the leather, eager to feel his skin.
