Page 247 of Blade of the Nightking

He slipped it free. His hands followed the long line down my back, patiently easing each one from its loop.

His fingertips accidentally grazed my spine, rough callouses brushing my skin, and I couldn't stop the shiver that raced through me at the unexpected touch. They were strong, capable hands. Hands that had dealt killing blows and committed unspeakable atrocities. Yet here they moved with a patience and gentleness I'd never imagined him capable of.

I fixed my gaze stubbornly on my own reflection, refusing to look at him, though the frantic pulse fluttering in my throat betrayed me in the mirror.

He cleared his throat. "There are… a lot of buttons.”

A snort escaped me before I could stop it, sudden and thoroughly unladylike. I squeezed my eyes shut in renewed mortification. When I opened them again, I caught his reflection in the mirror just as the corners of his mouth lifted.

That smile again.

It came quietly, as though it had slipped past his guard without him noticing. The solemn reserve that always defined him eased away, revealing a softness and openness I'd only ever glimpsed once before. It wasn't dazzling like the sun, demanding to be seen. It was beautiful in the way the moon was beautiful—gentle enough that you only appreciated it if you took the time to look.

And then, carved deep into his cheek, the damned dimple winked into existence.

Seeing it there felt strangely intimate, as though I'd stumbled upon something I was never meant to witness. I found myself unable to look away, riveted by his reflection as he remained completely absorbed in the careful work of his hands.

I had the ridiculous urge to turn around. To see him properly, up close.

I didn't.

The Ambrosia had already stripped away enough of my dignity for one evening. I wasn't about to surrender what little of it I had left.

I fiddled with my fingers, not knowing what else to do, as I studied his face. The last time we'd looked at each other through a mirror…

Oh gods.

The way my magic had reached for him. Desired him. It had tried to ensnare him, and I’d been powerless to stop it. And afterward… his rejection.

As though he sensed the shift in me, his gaze lifted to meet mine in the mirror. The smile slipped from his face as he took in my expression. His fingers stilled at my back, but he didn't move away.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "For what happened in Illyra. That wasn't... I would never... And with you..."

The words tangled in my throat.

"Had I been in control," I added hurriedly, "I assure you, seducing you would've been the last thing on my mind."

He exhaled, his breath a caress on the back of my neck.

"I suspected as much." The dimple returned to his cheek as he lowered his attention back to my dress. "I imagine stabbing me ranks considerably higher."

A startled laugh escaped me. "Something like that."

He huffed softly and unfastened another button. This time, when he paused, his fingertips drifted lightly down the bare skin of my back. The touch was so fleeting I almost thought I'd imagined it, yet his gaze followed the path his fingers had traced.

"Nevertheless," he murmured, "it's not something I'll soon forget."

The words stole every coherent thought from my mind.

Neither of us moved. We simply stood there, scarcely a breath apart, his hands still resting lightly at my back, his presence pressing against every one of my senses.

There was something in his voice I'd never heard before.

Slowly, I turned to face him. "Look at me."

He hesitated. Then, almost reluctantly, his gaze lifted to mine.

My breath caught. His pupils were blown wide, his eyes almost entirely black. Endless. Bottomless. So deep I wanted to tumble into them and simply keep falling, lost forever in that impossible darkness.