“You all right there, Mayah?” I ask, fighting back a smile. My heart warms at her attention, even as my mind reminds me that it’s not real.
“Yeah,” she whispers. Her voice is low and breathy. It fuckingcaressesmy skin. “Yeah, just a little warm.”
Just a little warm, my ass. What will I do when she tries to sleep with me?
Kneeling before her, I hand over our shared canteen. “Drink some water. You look flushed.”
Skies, there’s purehungerin her eyes. Forme. A heady rush of desire heats my blood, and my throat bobs as I swallow past the sudden dryness plaguing my mouth.
“I’m going to stay on that side of camp”—I point behind me—“and you’re going to stay right here. If we can do that, we’ll be fine.”
She downs the entire canteen. A drop of water escapes from her lips and drips a tantalizing path down her neck. My gaze lingers on the slant of her throat, her soft skin begging me to—
Skies damn me.
I don’t need any power shared with me—I’m already feral for her.
Distance.
We need distance. Grabbing my sword, I settle down across the camp and begin to sharpen it carefully, focusing on honing the blade with a whetstone.
I make the mistake of looking up.
Fucking Skies.
Mayah watches me with rapt attention, one hand cupping her breast, the other inching maddeningly between her thighs.
“Mayah.” My voice is rougher than the gravel lining the Arbinji courtyard. “Stop looking at me. Find something to keep yourself busy.”
She doesn’t listen. Instead, she fuckingsaunterstoward me. My idiot eyes immediately drop to her swaying hips. Panic flares in my chest, hot and sudden. There is no possible way I can resist her.
“Mayah,” I bark her name, but it’s no use—her gaze just darkens, pupils blown wide. She looks like she wants to make a meal of me, and Skies have mercy, howI wishher feelings were real.
When she kneels before me like an offering, it’s a monumental effort not to push her to the ground and take her. My breathing is ragged just fromlookingat her, heart thrashing in my chest.
I need to control the situation.
Controlmyself.
“What are you doing?” I growl. I feel far too much like prey beneath her molten gaze.
“Keeping myself busy.” She plucks the sword from my hands and tosses it to the ground.
And then she’s in my lap.
I might die.
Soft thighs bracket my hips, teasing hands stroking my shoulders. She leans in, and I grab her upper arms, keeping her from wrapping around me.
This isn’t really her.
“Skies, Mayah,stop.”
“I’m aching, Zev.” Despite myself, my hands drop to her waist when she calls me Zev.
Zev. Like I belong to her.
“I want you.Please,” she keens, her beautiful face twisted with anguish. A faint sheen of sweat coats her forehead and neck. My tongue darts out, wetting my lower lip.
