Alora knew she shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t be watching.
Yet, her feet remained rooted to the stone floor, her pulse fluttering as she peered through the narrow gap between the jagged rocks. The cavern’s hot spring shimmered in the dim torchlight, steam curling over the water’s surface.
Rune stood waist-deep, his back to her, muscles shifting beneath skin as he ran a hand through his wet hair. Shadows clung to him even here, trailing down his spine like an embrace.
She should leave before he?—
“Enjoying yourself?”
Her heart slammed into her ribs at the sound of that purring voice in her ear. The pool was empty now. Warm droplets landed on her bare shoulder, a shadow caressing her neck.
Slowly, Alora turned to find Rune standing behind her, dripping wet, his skin glistening in the low torchlight. Shadows curled around his waist, shifting like living silk.
Sacred Seven.
Rune leaned in, caging her between his body and the rock wall. A single drop of water traced its way down his collarbone, his smirk deepening as he watched her eyes follow its path.
“If you wanted a closer look,” he murmured, his voice like dark honey, “all you had to do was ask.”
“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” Alora froze, her breath catching when Rune’s wet body pressed closer, soaking through her nightgown.
“Did you think you could hide from me? I can smell you even through the steam.” His nose traced the line of her neck, making her heart race. A soft, ravenous growl rumbled in his throat and he softly cursed. “I can smell you in any room of this mountain. Your scent is like the ripe fruit from the Forbidden Tree.”
Her first instinct was to slap him, but Alora’s mind had gone molten beneath his touch. As if she was as intoxicated by him as he was of her. It must be her scent, she told herself.
Rune continued to inhale her as if he couldn’t get enough. Was he some kind of animal?
“Why do you smell so fucking good?” Rune demanded, almost angrily.
“I-I don’t know,” she squeaked.
Gods, he was close. Too close.
She could smell him, too. A scent of smoke and amber.
Rune’s body radiated heat, all sharp muscle and slow control, and still, her legs refused to move. She trembled, fighting to form thoughts as his clawed hand circled her waist and pulled her closer. Her eyes went wide when something hard and warm pressed against her stomach.
His fangs grazed her skin. “Have I always wanted you this terribly?”
Alora trembled, frozen like a deer hunted by pray, her mind caught between adrenaline and confusion. What did he mean by that?
The moisture from his body quickly soaked through the front of her nightgown, chilling her very sensitive breast. The fabric clung to her flushed skin, thin and traitorous. She flushed, realizing how undressed she was.
“Rune, wait.” She tried to push him back, but he caught her wrists.
He linked their fingers together, pinning her hands to the wall. “I have waited enough,” he growled, nose trailing over her throat. Alora’s heart pounded loudly in her ears as his mouth traveled up her neck to her jaw. “I really can’t resist when you’re so mouthwatering.”
And he nipped her throat.
Alora whimpered.
Rune tensed a moment, then he pulled back, allowing her two inches of breathing room. His gaze lowered to the translucent white fabric clinging to her chest. The glow in his eyes flared vibrantly. Ravenous hunger stormed in his gaze. With the way his gaze slid over her like a predator ready to pounce, he was seconds from feasting on her flesh.
But Rune took several deliberate steps back and she shuddered with relief. His throat constricted with a swallow, jaw clenching as eyes raked over her body to her bare legs. Anger surfaced through the desire.
His gaze returned to hers, burning bright.
“Seven Hells,” he softly growled. “Wandering the castle like that… you are begging to be devoured.”
