Finally, he stepped toward the washbasin.
My lungs expanded again when he turned his back. Yet I was too wired to fall asleep immediately. Instead, I stared at the ceiling as he poured water into the bowl. The sound of sloshing liquid filled the silence, along with the wringing of a cloth as he cleaned himself.
I stole a glance at him, unable to help myself.
Big mistake.
He’d removed his tunic, revealing the perfect circle between his shoulder blades. His mate mark. The one that matched mine. Yet around it, other ink decorated his skin. The art was immaculate, feathers that looked real enough to touch falling across his back. And at the top of his spine, a moon,pocked and full, shone over all the shattered shards among the dark vanes. Text wrapped around his ribs, disappearing into the dim light.
I found myself wanting to get closer, to read the runes etched into his flesh. To see what waited on the front of his torso.
The backs of his arms too were decorated. Birds, swords, and storms wrapped an intricate design all the way to his wrists.
He turned, and a faint gasp tumbled past my lips.
The carved muscle was even more apparent from the front. Strong pectorals sat above abdominals that made my center heat. But as I traced each line, my attention snagged on something carved over his heart. But the marks…they weren’t tattoos. Instead, jagged Angelic letters, raised and white like scars, conveyed a message.
DUTY ABOVE ALL
Somehow, I knew that he hadn’t placed the words there himself.
“Admiring the view?” His voice was all velvet and sin. Long fingers twitched toward his chest but landed on his shoulder instead.
My cheeks flushed as I forced myself to look him in the eye. “It’s fine.”
A low chuckle echoed off the overhead beams and pebbled my skin. “The bond tells me it’s more thanfine.”
“Exactly. It’s just the bond,” I said, my protest weaker than I had aimed for.
Each step he took toward his pallet bunched and flexed the stacks of muscle. Yet instead of sitting back, he spun and faced me. Hands splayed across the foot of the bed, and he leaned closer, sucking all air from my lungs.
The fire cast an eerie halo around him, shroudinghis face in darkness. But what was unmistakable was the thick outline in his pants.
“Goodnight, Sylaira.” The way my name rolled across his tongue was downright unholy.
He lingered for a moment longer, whether to tease me with the body that promised to ruin me, or to drink me in like he was a male dying of thirst, I wasn’t sure.
I only knew that the rope between us burned as he settled into his place to sleep for the night. Begged me to let him join me. To allow him close enough to touch.
To claim.
My mind conjured images of me raking nails down each square on his stomach, toward the delicious cuts that disappeared into his pants.
I wasn’t overly experienced in the ways of seduction and sex, but I knew that a body like his promised pleasure unlike I’d ever had before.
My thighs dampened despite my best efforts to shut out the lustful thoughts and seek sleep. At this point, I welcomed the oblivion if only to escape the madness that was outside of my control. Outside, an owl hooted, nearly making me jump out of my skin. The Issaraeth huffed a laugh but said nothing.
He didn’t need to.
Not when this same raging desire flooded our connection from his side too.
It was going to be alongnight.
Because I didn’t know what terrified me more…
The thought of him sleeping mere feet from me.
Or the thought that I might want him closer.
