He stood behind her, a head taller, his hands resting lightly on her hips. In the reflection, she saw a woman she barely recognized: flushed, alive, her eyes bright with something sharp and irresistible.
Felix lifted her hair, baring the lengthy line of her neck. “Here,” he said, and pressed his lips to the juncture just beneath her ear, lingering a moment before moving lower, to the point where her collarbones met. “And here,” he whispered.
His hands slid up, splaying over her ribs, drawing her in so their bodies fit, curved and lockstep. “Here,” he murmured, and kissed the hollow at her throat.
He traced his fingers down her sides, over the curve of her waist. “And here. All this strength. You do not even see it, do you?”
She shook her head, her breath coming faster, the heat rising in her chest and face.
He let his hand drift lower, over her hip, her thigh, down to the backs of her knees. “And here. Even your legs are fearless. They carried you through a night most men would have run from.”
She turned in his arms, barely able to meet his gaze. “You’re making a fool of me.”
“Never,” he said, deadly serious. “I want you to see yourself as I see you.”
He brought his hand to her jaw, tilting it up, and for a heartbeat, Rose thought he would kiss her. She wanted him to, and the wanting filled her with terror.
“You’re making it harder,” she whispered. “If we do this, I’ll lose myself.”
He smiled, slow and wolfish. “That’s the idea, isn’t it?”
Rose shook her head. “Not for me. I want more than this. More than hunger.”
Felix’s expression cooled instantly, and the mask slipped back into place. “You think I’m incapable of more?”
She hesitated, but the words came. “Yes.”
He turned away, shoulders rigid. “Then you want a lie.”
She met his gaze, unflinching. “No. I want something real. I want to know if I fall, there’s someone to catch me. Not just to have me, but to hold me.”
Felix was silent, jaw working. The pain there was naked, and it hurt her to see it.
“Don’t ask that of me,” he said, his voice barely a rasp.
She nodded, a sick relief flooding her chest. “Then we should remain at a distance.”
He laughed again, but it sounded like he was defeated. “If that’s what you wish.”
“It is,” Rose lied.
“You should rest. I’ll have food sent up.”
He left the room as abruptly as he had entered.
For a long time, Rose stared at her reflection, trying to reconcile the woman in the mirror with the one who lived inside her skull.
When she crawled into bed that night, she slept without dreams, her body remembering every place he had touched, every word he had left unsaid.
The dawn light seeped through the high windows in pale, uncertain shafts, painting the breakfast room in washed-out silver. Rose stirred on the edge of her bed, every nerve alive with the afterglow of the previous night, every muscle too taut to grant her rest.
She dressed in muted shades of dove gray, her fingers trembling as she clasped the small buttons of her morning gown. She would take breakfast alone, she decided, and would spare herself the pitying glances or the insistence on probing questions.
Better to settle her mind in solitude than to face Felix at the table.
The breakfast room was silent when she entered. A single chair stood at the long mahogany table, and on it lay a white napkin folded into the shape of a swan. Rose seated herself, and a maid brought her a cup of tea instantly. The warmth did nothing to still the thoughts that tumbled through her mind.
Outside, the carriage wheels rattled as servants moved about, and somewhere down the hall a door creaked.
