losing complete control. There was no space where we didn’t touch, his arms wrapped around my waist as he watched me
closely.
At first, it seemed as if we’d only known each other a few short months, but it had neverfeltthat way. After finding out I
spent most of my younger days with him—roaming the forest with him, hiding out in the stables as we played cards late into the
night or when we danced amongst the flowers, me dreadfully trying to learn the steps to something ready for another ball—it
made sense why I felt that way.
I was finding it difficult not to fall for him. With his way of words, the gentleness in his tone and how he kept hold of me.
He really was what all those romantic books were about.
“We need to finish our rites before the sun rises,” I spoke quietly, as he used one hand to brush his fingers through my wet
hair.
Without question, he let go of me and turned to grab hold of a bottle of what looked to be shampoo and poured the liquid
onto his hands. He rubbed them together to create a lather and then started to wash my hair.
“We will finish the rites and then I am taking you to bed,” he growled as he massaged his fingers into my scalp, delicately
and firmly. It felt wonderful.
Once he was finished and my hair rinsed it free of any soap, I did the same to him. He closed his eyes, clearly enjoying the
moment. His hair felt even softer than I first imagined, which made me laugh under my breath. He gave me a strange, confused
look while I rinsed out the soap.
“I will never tire of your laugh,” he murmured and closed his eyes once again.
“We didn’t finish telling each other personal things. But I think you already know more about me that I do myself, Nic,” I
confessed.
I had the strangest feeling that since he was able to take away my memories, he may also have the gift—or maybe it was a
curse—to look into other people’s minds. He’d already spoken to me via our thoughts. It would make sense if he wandered into
my mind sometimes to learn things.
“I only know the things you wish for me to know. I never intend or try to look inside your mind, Ornella.”
He lifted one hand up and wrapped his fingers around my wrist firmly, making me look at him. His eyes changed into the
colour of waves, greys and dark blues mixed together.
“You are in control. I like being in charge, but it’s refreshing to have someone around me who isn’t afraid of upsetting me,”
he confessed as he brushed the knuckles of his other hand against my cheek.
“I am still afraid of you—sometimes,” I admitted, “I don’t mean to be, but I know deep down there is a dark side of you. I
hope to embrace it rather than run away from it.”
