“An understanding of sorts.”
“That’s not a good enough explanation.”
“There’s nothing to explain, Hellion.”
“You claimed me in front of him. Why?”
Moonlight spilled through the tall, gothic windows, highlighting his maddeningly pleased side glance.
“You claimed me first.”
My mouth popped open.
“I did not.”
Ronen’s smile widened, and I tripped over my own feet like a moron.
He caught me, maneuvering me against the hall window with a dangerous sparkle in those golden eyes.
“Are you sure?” he inquired softly, his hand sliding into my waves and tilting my head back. He ran the pad of his tingling thumb across my open mouth.
He stole my breath with his touch. He muddied my thoughts with that disastrous smile.
“I never kissed you,” I somehow managed to say.
He leaned forward slowly, and I didn’t move. I only stared at his perfectly soft lips coming toward me. My heart thrummed like a hummingbird. My Infernus sang low in eager anticipation.
Then he kissed my forehead.
“You didn’t have to,” he murmured against my skin.
I melted from the inside out and inhaled his spicy balsam and clove scent like I planned to drown in it. My fingers twitched with a thought that’d seal my fate.
Before I dared move, he drew back and held out a black rose.
Where did he get a?—
The rose shifted, turning into wispy shadows before solidifying into a black daisy, then a peony, continuing through different flower shapes.
“I don’t know your favorite flower,” he admitted.
I ran a finger along the black poppy stem, marveling at the silky texture vibrating against my skin.
Ronen shuddered, and a little wisp snaked out from the flower, wrapping around my finger as if urging me to continue.
“Go back to the tulip.”
His shadows dispersed and reformed.
“There’s your answer.” I smiled, playing with the flower’s petals.
Ronen’s joy erupted through our bond, filling me with contagious lightness.
I pressed more firmly against the cool glass, needing the support.
“A gift for your answer,” he said, a smile in his voice.
The sunshine dancing inside my chest intensified to the point I couldn’t speak. I was drunk on the feeling, drunk on him.
