“I know not everything is about me,” he says gently. “I just… wanted to check on you. Looks like I came just when you needed me.” He eyes my incomplete braid in the mirror.
I scowl again.
“May I?” he asks, stepping closer.
I flip the half-twisted chunk over my shoulder, making sure to do it dramatically and hoping to whip his hand with it a little.
It does, and it makes him smirk.
That annoying, beautiful asshole.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself as his first touch against my neck sends shivers down my spine. His large frame extends past me on all sides in the reflection, and his head is well-above mine. This isn’t the first time he’s done this, but it’s the first time I’ve seen how his brow furrows in concentration as he gently twists my hair.
Thoughts of our mouths colliding while he grinds himself into me overtake me, causing my body to react unwillingly. I ignore the blood rushing down, and I shift my stance, pushing my legs together.
In the time I’ve known him he’s gone from a scary, feral, untamed beast to… whatever this is. Still a large, beastly creature, but one that’s capable of gentle moments.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Yes.”
“Did Maethrel say something to you? When you went back in the cottage…”
His eyes shift to mine, and his hands stop as surprise crosses his face. He looks down again and continues braiding, not answering at first. He finishes and reaches for the ribbon on the table, then ties the end.
“It was just a bunch of bullshit. Nonsense.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
I study his face, my eyes traveling from the slope of his straight, sculpted nose to the sharp line of his jaw
“Do you trust me?” he asks, still standing behind me and meeting my gaze in the mirror.
“Yes,” I say softly. Maybe it’s stupid, but I still do. “Despite this hot and cold game you’ve been playing with me.”
A muscle tenses in his sharp jaw. “I’m not trying to play any games with you, Elysande.” He looks down and runs a hand down my braid, his eyes traveling the length of it. “I only want what’s best for you.” He says it delicately, as if I need to be handled with care.
“I don’t need you to treat me like a delicate flower,” I tell him, my voice rising.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“No? Then please, enlighten me.”
He looks away, and I keep my eyes on him, waiting. His throat bobs before he returns his gaze to me. “It’s complicated,” he says with a tone of finality, like he’s come to some conclusion about a problem I know nothing about.
“You know what? Whatever. I don’t care.”
He sucks in a breath, and his eyes get heavier. It’s like I can see him shutting down. “It was nothing important. I promise.”
“Raef doesn’t know anything?”
“No.”
I look down, shaking my head. “I figured you would have at least told him what happened that day.”
“No. And not because he hasn’t asked… one hundred times. There’s just nothing that needs telling.”
