Page 14 of An Arrow to the Heart

So she began telling him about her hybrid plants, their benefits and uses. Anything to keep her mind and eyes from wandering toward those strong thighs of his. It’s not like she hadn’t noticed how good looking the man was when she first began treating him, but she always kept her patient relationships strictly that, professional. However as time went on she found it harder and harder to not think of him as someone she would have otherwise pursued. The way she sometimes found his gaze on her while she worked on his wounds made her weak in the knees. A thought for which she’d immediately chastise herself for, given his injury and the fact that he was her patient. It’s why she’d refrained from spending time with him up until now. She could see now that had indeed been a wise decision for she wasn’t entirely sure she could hide her desires for much longer. So she continued to tell him about her life as a healer and her plants in a bid to stop her wandering thoughts.

The evening faded to night and the only source of light became the moon and stars high above them. The tension between them sparked, reaching new heights with the loss of the daylight.

Ardál took a swig from his ale, finishing the bottle and subtly licked his lips, “you know, I saw you that day. The day of the attack.”

“You did?” Sylvie said, brows scrunched. “I hadn’t noticed you, until you were bleeding before me that is.”

Ardál let out a low chuckle, “ouch, way to bruise a man’s ego,” he said arching his back before he continued, “but yeah, you were laughing about something with Valeska and honestly… I lost all ability to concentrate on the conversation I was in. The sound of your laughter was the most glorious sound I’d ever heard. I was about to approach you just as the fighting began. I hadn’t even seen your face, yet I knew you would be the most beautiful woman I’d ever lay eyes on.”

“And for reference, I’d happily bleed before you if my reward was to meet you,” he said tone smooth as velvet.

Rendered to silence Sylvie felt a sudden flush of warmth spreading through her, she didn’t know what to say. What could she say?

She could feel his gaze upon her, and she knew under different circumstances he’d be on his knees before her. For a moment she let the thoughts consume her as they only stared at each other with hunger that could only be sated by the other. His body language sang to her. The thought of his lips on hers was enough to send a torrent of tingles down her core.

No.

No, she’d need to put a stop to this. He was her patient. And until that was otherwise nothing could happen between them regardless of how much she wanted him.

In an attempt to distract herself Sylvie pulled the leather tie from the end of her plaited hair, untethering the braid which hung over her shoulder. The curls sprang loose and she worked her fingers to massage the ache of her scalp after a long day and a moan may have spilled from her lips at the sensation of it.

Flush crept up her cheeks as she realised what she’d unwittingly done for there was no mistaking the way he was now looking at her.

As though she had stolen the air from his lungs. His gaze moving from her long locks to her mouth with parted lips.

“It’s getting late, you should probably get some rest,” she said in a low voice, barely able to steady her breathing.

He brought his hand to his front, readjusting himself as he said, “right,” as though he was still elsewhere in his thoughts. But he caught a hold of himself, and he let out a heavy breath before he said, “yes, you’re right.”

He got himself onto his feet without the aid of his crutches and moved into the space before her, leaning down he traced the curve of her jaw with his nose, his beard tickling the soft skin of her neck and she closed her eyes savouring the feel of him as she leaned into the scent of him. He brought his lips a whisper away from hers and the heat of his breath sent tingles down her spine as he lightly brushed his lips against hers. She brought her hand over the nape of his neck, the tips of her fingers pressing into his hair and he let out a raspy moan. Gods, she’d never wanted anything as much as she did him but before she could give in to her want and kiss him he stood up straight again.

“When I fuck you, and make no mistake, I will, Sylvie,” he said, his tone low. “I will fuck you so hard the only name you’ll remember is mine,” his eyes drifted over her body as though he was picturing what he’d do to it, “I can’t wait to hear the noises you’ll make when I thrust my cock inside you but I want to be at my full strength to ensure I satisfy every single inch of your body with mine. I will make your legs shake, that’s a promise.” Her breath hitched at his words and she found herself too stunned and quite frankly turned on to respond, her only response was to bite her bottom lip.

She just sat there.

She sat there long after he had made his way back inside and she had watched him as he walked with such determination and she wondered how she’d never seen this assertive side to him before. He’d used her name, that alone had left her reeling. He’d only referred to her as a healer up until that moment. She’d never in her three hundred and eighty-three years had a human man talk to her in such a way.

Worse still, she had never imagined herself liking it so.

CHAPTER TWELVE

-Ardál-

He had barely slept the previous night. He’d not taken his nightly tea, instead preferring to suffer in gut-wrenching pain. Anything to take his mind off the woman on the other side of that door. He had thought about seeking her out, to Hel with his promise.

He needed her.

To taste her, to bury his cock deep within her. But his Gods damned knee wouldn’t let him. He had nearly spilled himself right there in the garden with the way her gaze left him longing to touch her. The way her silver curls bounced as she brought her fingers through them, the way he imagined they’d bounce if she were to ride him. His cock ached beneath his pants even now, and he willed the blood to rush to his knee in its stead for maybe it would heal him quicker. He was stuck between two Hels of an entirely different type. He’d relish in the pain to take his lured thoughts away from Sylvie only to find himself easing the pain when it began to get too much with thoughts of her.

“Eggs, bacon and bread,” she said as she entered the room with his breakfast.

Fuck.

He couldn’t face her. His hard-on still throbbed beneath the sheets and he wasn’t sure he could tolerate her touch, even if it was for the purpose of the yucky task of changing his bandage and checking his wound. Thoughts of how she had looked at him the previous night still lingering at the forefront of his mind. He let out a small cough to clear his throat before he said, “smells great.” Despite his best efforts his tone was laced with pain. And she noticed immediately.

Fuck.

“Did you take your tea last night?” she asked with concern on her face, straight by his side having set the food on the table. She swiftly lifted the sheets to just above his knee, uncovering his injured knee, examining it for signs of infection, her touch both heavenly and excruciating all at once.