It barreled across the floorboards, butting its head against Sheba’s shin.
A genuine chuckle escaped her, a bright, silver sound that filled the timber room.
The joy vanished as fast as it arrived.
Sheba froze, her face draining of color. Guilt tightened her features into a mask of stone.
How can I laugh? I should be mourning.
Idan’s sub-vox resonance bloomed in her mind in a timbred rasp.
Salkia, your friends wouldn’t want you stuck in a loop of grieving. Being happy isn’t a betrayal; it’s carrying the gift she can’t anymore. The best way to honor them is to live, to care, and give back like you always have.
She reached down, burying her fingers in the lamb’s soft wool, before looking up to meet his stare.
Sante.
The appreciation in her eyes and the simple intimacy of that one word through their link sent emotion ratcheting through Idan.
A sudden, raw hunger for her flared in his heart and soul, more intense than any adrenaline rush he’d ever experienced in combat.
He instinctively reached to pet the lamb, and their hands brushed over the pelt.
They both froze; neither one retreating from the scorching touch.
Idan’s entire body heated up; cock throbbing, his heart jolting.
Their eyes locked, and the moment hung between them, as the attraction between them rapidly built into an inferno.
That night, as he lay still in the dark, listening to the sound of Sheba’s deep, steady breathing, a truth dawned on him.
His mission to keep her alive was shifting into an unfathomable ardor.
He wasn’t just protecting her anymore; he was tethered to her soul.
11
Too Good To Be True
Over the next few days, the intimate confines of the mountain hut forced a series of accidental, electrifying collisions between Sheba and Idan.
Their hands brushed over the handle of the cast-iron kettle, while their shoulders bumped as they navigated the narrow corridor.
His palm even grazed the small of her back whenever they reached for the same jar of dried grains.
The slow-burning ignition lit the atmosphere until the air coiled with a wild charge.
By now, Idan was sleeping each night beside her.
He didn’t bother to mask the flames blazing in his eyes as he raked them over her each time he slid alongside her, not hiding his desire whatsoever.
Sheba, incapable of resisting his massive frame, and his radiated furnace-like heat nestled into him, every part of her throbbing for him.
One morning, Sheba woke to the sun breaching the shutters and bit her lip because Idan lay with his head on her chest.
His hand encircled her waist, and his heavy thigh flung over her legs, anchoring her to him.
Unable to help herself, Sheba sank her hand into his nape, loving the waterfall of his luxurious, thick tresses, breathing in the musk and scent of his manliness.
