I’m not sure why I thought…maybe… he would seem less threatening without his armor. More vulnerable somehow. Less frightening.
Oh, how wrong I was.
Now he is beautiful and so… Fucking. Terrifying.
Overwhelming fear rages through me with the realization that his armor cages him, subduing him somehow, and now that it’s mostly off, there’s a part of him that’s been released from that cage.
A part of him that, frighteningly, calls to me.
The curve of his lips promises terrible pain, but my fear is fading, reducing with every heated rake of his gaze over my curves, causing an alarming recklessness to build within my heart and mind.
What if I defied him and took a single step toward him?
Just as that dangerous thought slips through my consciousness, the golden ink on my arm glints brightly.
“No!” Molten gold rushes up my arm from the blade, and Ibarely have time to snatch a breath before my free will is stolen from me?—
The workroom vanishes as the blade’s energy consumes my mind.
I’m covered in iron dust again, but this time I’m wearing nothing more than a white ribbon wrapped across my breasts and down around my upper thighs.
Every other part of my body is naked and exposed while the ribbon slides against my skin, humming as it binds my chest and upper legs.
But now, startlingly…
A chain of fire threads through the haze on my right, a cord of heat reaching for my waist, coiling around me as if it would wrench me away from the iron?—
Antony’s shout jolts me back to myself. “Stop!”
My scream spirals from my mouth as the vision vanishes, and the room crashes back into view around me.
But… Oh, no…
I’ve stepped right up to him, my heaving chest dangerously close to his.
I must have raised my inked hand to his face during the vision because he’s gripping my wrist, holding my palm away from his cheek.
My fingers are splayed, every bone in my wrist shifting painfully beneath his hold, threatening to crack under the pressure.
He’s holding me with his left hand—his armored hand—and he’s strong enough, let alone with that steel glove, to break my bones like brittle twigs.
“Stop, Thyra.” His voice is low and dangerous, his gaze consuming mine, his actions defying his speech as he lowers his head to mine, bringing my palm so near to his jaw that the heel of my hand brusheshis bristles.
He bares his teeth at me, his pupils dilating, his beautiful lips only inches away from mine.
My breathing is beyond ragged, and a whisper passes through my lips. “Please.”
I don’t know what I’m asking. To be released. Or perhaps…to be constrained.
He leans closer, his lips parted, but oh, how his breathing seethes, and the brutal promise in his eyes grows, warning me that I’m tempting danger.
Warning me that he could end me in an instant.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Maxim
Sliding from my serpent’s back, I keep Cassia in my sights, fully expecting her to retaliate at my approach.
