Octavia frowned. “You shouldn’t have to wait. Maybe I could convince the guard to let you walk around away from the prohiberis. Then you could?—”
“No.” He stepped towards her. “It’s fine.”
The witch kept using that word, but Octavia didn’t think he understood what it meant.
“Flynn—”
“Octavia.” Her name was little more than a growl as it slipped from his mouth. “It’sfine.”
And this time, she understood what he was trying to say.
She looked up at him, and their eyes locked. His gaze smoldered, and he looked at her like she was the only person in the whole world.
Flynn took another step closer. There was barely any room between them.
Suddenly, Octavia became aware of just how small this space was. A bed, a chair, and a slim wardrobe took up most of the room. A jug of water sat on the only nightstand. That was it. The guard had told them there was an outhouse outside, but she didn’t want to have to deal with the nasty werewolf or have more prohiberis put on her. She’d just… hold it. Still, even though this wasn’t high-class living, it was a hundred times better than the cages.
And Flynn…
Octavia realized she was still gripping his wrists. Still staring at him. Still standing just a few inches from him.
But instead of moving away, she studied him. She couldn’t help it—she drank him in. Every single part of him intrigued her in a way that nothing else ever had.
Stubble grew from their days in the forest, the hints of a red beard a few shades lighter than his hair. His chest was smooth and hard. He was muscular, unlike her. She’d always enjoyed food, and dragon shifters had voracious appetites. Her body was proof of that, and she was proud of it.
Flynn breathed her name, the word a hoarse whisper on his lips.
Octavia’s core twisted, and she squeezed her thighs together as desire pulsed through her. Who knew one word could have such an effect on a person?
She dragged her gaze up to his. “Yes?”
“You can let go of my wrists now, beautiful.”
Twice now, he’d called her that. She could say it didn’t affect her, but she’d be lying.
She released his wrists but didn’t move. She couldn’t. Her heart was a thundering horse, and her lungs were tight. She felt like a youngling preparing for their first shift. Unprepared and excited for the unknown, all at once.
Octavia recalled her question from earlier. “Do you… at home…” The words weren’t coming easily. Inhaling deeply, she took a readying breath and then plowed ahead. “What I’m asking is whether you have someone at home. A witch or an elf or… whatever? It’s great if you do, and if that’s the case, I’ll just go away, but maybe?—”
He put his finger on her lips, silencing her rambling. “No.”
He closed the gap between them. Her breasts brushed against his chest, and she forgot how to breathe.
Then, his words settled upon her.
No. He had someone. Her shoulders dropped, and stupid tears rushed to her eyes. Of course, Flynn was taken. Why would a handsome, young witch not have a partner?
“Oh, okay.” Octavia blinked furiously, hoping that witches didn’t have extraordinary vision like dragons. She didn’t needhim to know tears were threatening to fall. “Sorry. I’m just going to… go.”
She turned, but there was no escape. They were trapped here until the morning.
Why hadn’t she thought about that before? She’d stepped out of her comfort zone and failed horribly.
There were probably several more decades of celibacy in her future. So much for children. After this, Octavia would likely never talk to another man again. Maybe she’d join one of those convents dedicated to honoring the goddesses. She would?—
Warm breath danced across her ear, and she stiffened.
“I don’t have a girlfriend at home,” Flynn murmured.
