He is watching me, wide awake.
I startle backward, my hand flying to my throat. Only after I’ve recovered from a minor heart attack, I speak. “I thought you were asleep,” I gasp. “You do not have to pretend to sleep.”
He looks at me, his eyes somehow catching the last of the light from the fire’s ember. “I didn’t mean to alarm you... I couldn’t sleep.”
Chapter Eight
Ryker
She’s beautifully awkward. Out of place in her own home. She blushes when she peers at me over her shoulder…as if I wouldn’t notice her stolen glances. She clears her throat in this adorable dainty way and seems as if she’ll say something, but words fail her. This all-powerful witch that so many fear is no doubt potent with her magic, but she is more of a prey than a hunter. My wolf is tempted and yet sated merely in her presence.
It’s obvious that I get to her and I enjoy knowing that fact. Idalis peers down at me, appearing innocent with her wide doe eyes and almost delicate in the waning firelight. Her fingers flutter at her throat as if she wants to drop her hand and look stoic but can’t.
“You didn’t alarm me,” she lies. Again she clears her throat in a way that’s cute. I never thought that was possible before laying eyes on her. “I wasn’t alarmed. I only thought you were sleeping.”
“You weren’t sleeping either.” My response comes with a casual tone, easy and as if unimportant although every nerve ending in my body stands on edge just from talking to her. Just from being up in the late hours with sleep at our fingertips…just as close as the bed is. My cock hardens at the thought of taking her to bed and truly exhausting ourselves how desire intends. Now I find myself clearing my throat and attempting to rid my mind of the image lest the witch finds out my sordid thoughts. I must be a gentleman.
“No.” Finally, she lowers her hand, only to clasp it with her other hand. “No, I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I would try to cast a portal.” Disappointment lingers in her tone, and I wish it didn’t. I have no desire for her to create a portal tonight.
I thought that is what she might be doing, though I could not tell with her back turned.
“Did it work?” I question without hinting at my hope that it failed.
“It didn’t,” she answers, shaking her head and pursing her lips.
My gaze lingers over the curves of her nightgown, the hem well within my reach; another level of hardship. Idalis’ scent is sweet, like fresh flowers and a sugary confection that I cannot name. I want to grab the hem of her nightgown and pull her down to the blanket with me. I could suckle the curve of her delicate neck until the worried look disappears from her face, replaced with want and ecstasy. I could spread her thighs and taste her there until I found where all that sweetness comes from. I could make her moan out my name and?—
“I’m sorry if I woke you,” she says quickly, thankfully interrupting my inappropriate thoughts, then steps around me and pads to her bed.
“You didn’t and it’s alright,” I manage, my throat tight and tense.
The blankets lift, then fall, sending a soft breeze of her scent toward me. Fucking hell.
My cock throbs with the torture of her being so close and yet untouchable. She doesn’t trust me. I don’t trust her. This witch has powers like I have never encountered before, and her wariness is salt in her scent.
What does she think of me? What does she think I will do to her?
Is she afraid that I might claim her?
I huff a humorless laugh at the thought, keeping the sound under my breath, and fold my arm under my head. I know not what’s come over me only that I crave her more than I have ever craved another. I am surely spellbound and desperate to resist. Time ticks with the thoughts becoming more and more vivid, agonizingly slow.
Idalis doesn’t sleep, either. I can feel her there, lying in her bed with her heart racing, mere feet from where I lie.
My mouth waters for the rest of the night. My cock never softens. I want her more with every heartbeat.
Perhaps I should have taken my chances in the forest last night, or started the journey back to my lands, but with us both awake and waiting for the other to speak, or move, or?—
Something else.
It’s torture.
She never speaks. Idalis is determined to lie as still as she can, it seems. She does so until the sun comes up.
When enough light sneaks in around her shutters, Idalis quietly climbs out of her bed and walks purposefully across the cottage to the bathing room. When she comes out, she is dressed again—a dark green dress that looks as if it was woven from the land around her. A pattern of wildflowers is embroidered at the hem and the cuffs of the sleeves. She eyes me and when our gazes catch, she offers me a simper and another blush then looks away. My head falls back and my eyes close from the vision she is. I’m forced to suppress a growl of satisfaction. She reaches up to her hair to tie it in a low bun at her neck, and the sight makes my wolf howl mournfully. He longs to be allowed to touch her. He yearns to be allowed to bury his nose in the nape of her neck and breathe her in.
“The storm still brews… I’ll make tea,” she says, without looking at me. “I thought you would like some, but if you do not?—”
“I would love a cup.” I get to my feet quickly, trying to adjust myself subtly. “Thank you.” It’s then that the need to sleep truly hits me as I stand. I’ve gone days without sleep before, but this is different. The warmth and comfort teases me just as the sight of the witch does.
