Two icebergs clank against each other somewhere in the distance, screaming their own language in cracking tones and eerie echoes.
Vicious scurries out from under the furs and bolts upright, on the tips of her toes as she grips the windowsill and looks out across the sea. Ribbons of colorful light stain the smooth angles of her elegant face, her hair a dashed cloud, tanned legs exposed from the stretch of her.
Her lips pull back, flashing those sharp teeth as a soft snarl saws free.
“Hey, it’s okay.” I tangle my fingers through the hem of her shirt and give it a tug.
It slips down, revealing the fine slant of a sun-kissed shoulder and the full, healthy swell of her right breast.
Fuck.
“Sorry.”
She doesn’t waver—that snarl growing louder.
Deeper.
I swallow, wrapping my hand around her slight ankle, teeth chattering. “V-Vicious ...”
Her bold, yellow stare stabs at me, and for a moment it’s hard to think under the force of her full attention while blinded by the wild, erotic elegance of her bared breast and pinched, pink nipple.
My heart trips over one of its hurried beats.
The colors of the aurora blend through her hair as she tilts her head, the motion almost predatory. For whatever fucking reason, I’m blindsided by a jolt of thrill.
She drops to a crouch and slaps her hand upon my clammy forehead, rinsing me in her sea-spray scent.
I groan for all the wrong reasons.
She inspects my perspiration now smeared across her palm, sniffing it.
I frown.
Why am Isweating?People only do that when they’re overheating—something I’m absolutely not doing. In fact, I’ve never been so cold in my very long life.
She nuzzles into my neck, draws deep ...
I still.
Fuckingstill.
Her exhale rattles against me, and for a moment I think she’s going to open that pretty little mouth and sink her teeth into my flesh.
“I’m fine.” I coax the shirt over her shoulder again, then grip her by the upper arm. “Just tuck d-down and go back to sle—”
She whips the furs away, baring my body to the crisp air.
“Sweet seas,” I mutter, reaching down to protect myself. “Avert your eyes. It’s cold.”
She settles her ear against my chest, eyes sweeping shut, snatching my breath as her hand flattens over my heart. Shetaps-taps-tapsher middle finger, and I drop my chin, watching her with baited intrigue.
On she goes—speeding up, slowing down. She even drums little patterns that have me frowning.
Perhaps she’s timing those knocks to the beat of my heart? Maybe her concern is justified. That rhythm doesn’t sound healthy.
“It’s working, Vicious. I w-wouldn’t be breathing otherwise.”
Her other hand stamps over my mouth—a not-so-subtle way of telling me to shut it.
