“If you want my forgiveness,” I say, “open your eyes.”
I let the words hang between us, final and absolute. Then I turn on my heels and stride toward the door, my magic thrumming with every step.
Atickle on my foot yanks me from sleep. My body reacts before my mind fully wakes, and I twitch, kicking at the disturbance. My blanket shifts, slipping down as I jerk away, but the movement freezes when my eyes catch the culprit.
A dark tendril, wispy and curling, stretches across my bed. It moves like smoke, slithering from beneath my chamber door.
My lips press into a thin line. I know exactly who’s responsible.
I slide off the bed and with a sharp stomp, I drive my heel into the shadow. It shudders beneath my foot before dissolving.
A heartbeat later, the door slams open, rattling on its hinges.
“Oh, good. You’re awake,” Kaelzar says, his voice carefully neutral. He fills the doorway, leaning against the frame. His hood throws his face into shadow, but his gray eyes gleam through it.
The memory of him going so very still at the sight of a new red strand last night flashes across my mind. It made my blood chill.Did you choose this?he asked, his gaze fixed on my hair. The tension in his jaw made me imagine all the horrible ways he might hurt Ryker if I so much as hesitated.
So I didn’t drop my gaze when I answered, simply and firmly,yes.My Godbeast only nodded stiffly and marched out of the room, not to be seen again until now.
I fix him with a glare, still unsettled by his reaction last night, when I realize something is wrong. Kaelzar’s form suddenly turns rigid, hisfists balled as if he’s forcing his arms to stay still. He swallows audibly in the strange silence, blinking only after a few long moments.
I don’t bother with pleasantries. “Wake me with shadows again,” I say, clipped, “and I won’t stop at stepping on them.”
He seems to have found his voice again as his gaze sweeps me up and down. “Is this the look you threaten people in now?” he asks, his voice a low growl that sends a shiver down my spine. “Because I have to say: it’s distracting, but not exactly fearsome.”
Heat shoots up my neck. I glance down. The thin silk nightgown I’d so carelessly chosen last night clings far too closely, the hem barely brushing mid-thigh. Every inch of me suddenly feels exposed to the cool air… and to his gaze.
Kaelzar’s eyes drag over me once more before he seems to catch himself. His jaw locks, muscles shifting as he looks away.
My pulse stumbles, half from embarrassment, half from a strange fluttering in my belly. Still, my mouth finds its footing faster than the rest of me. “Well,” I say, forcing breezy confidence into my voice and grabbing the robe draped across the bed, “distraction is part of the plan. I throw you off your guard, and when your jaw hits the floor that’s when I strike.”
The corner of his mouth twitches, a ghost of a smirk. And I tell myself that the thrill in my chest is irritation. Only irritation.
The satin feels cool against my fingers but the belt is a tangled mess, and when I try to loosen it, I only make the knot tighter. My frustration mounts as my fingers fumble uselessly.
Why does this always happen when he’s involved?
Against my better judgment, my gaze flicks toward him. The hood shadows his face, but it does nothing to hide the deepening smirk, the way he watches me with far too much amusement.
My grip on the belt tightens, my teeth grinding.
It’s always the same. Somehow, I always end up half-dressed and flustered when he’s around. The thought makes my skin burn with a different kind of heat. I yank harder at the belt, willing it to cooperate, but of course, it won’t.
Kaelzar shifts, his movements unhurried, as if savoring my struggle.
I stiffen, fingers freezing mid-tug. He’s so close. His large hand brushes mine and lingers just long enough to make my grip falter. He reaches for the belt, and I give it to him.
His fingers begin to work the knot loose with quiet precision.
I don’t move, still holding the robe, and for a moment, our arms remain close, the identical inked sigils etched into our skin aligned. The sight sends a prickling ripple through me.
“You really committed to this knot,” he murmurs, fingers working the belt with quiet precision.
“And you’re untying it like someone who’s done this too many times,” I mumble.
His mouth curves. “You said it yourself once, I’m good with my hands.”
My mind flashes back to the cabin. I blink the memory away before it can take root.
