He sat next to me, less stiff than usual, but gazing at me with the same intensity as always.
“Darius told me your training went exceptionally well today.” He wasn’t wearing his gloves. That was progress.
“Myrtha was upset because her method didn’t work and Darius’s did.”
“Bickering with each other is their favourite pastime. I wouldn’t pay them too much attention.” He kept his hands folded in his lap.
I placed my hand palm up next to him. “You should try this time. If you’re in control, it might be easier.”
A drop of sweat glistened on his temple as he inched his hand closer to mine. He shivered but didn’t stop. The distance between my palm and his finger stretched and became endless. I didn’t say anything and waited.
His chest rose, and I realised it didn’t move as frequently as, well, living people. His fingertips hovered over my palm, so close yet so far.
When he finally touched me, I had to control myself not to gasp. The touch was as light as that of a snowflake, but my skin tingled and my pulse spiked. He frowned and focused on my hand, quivering. His nostrils flared.
The touch required all his effort and energy. He trailed a finger over my thumb before withdrawing his hand as quickly as a striking cobra.
He panted, clenching his fists.
I eased the tension in my shoulders. “You’re making good progress.”
He let out a nervous chuckle. “I don’t think so.”
“Do you want to try again?”
“Yes.” He leant back and stared at the ceiling. His Adam’s apple bobbed on a swallow. “Your heartbeat quickened.”
“Your touch was light but enjoyable.” I wasn’t surprised he heard my heartbeat, but I hadn’t thought about that.
He turned towards me. “Enjoyable?”
I touched my palm. “I can still feel it.”
“May I?”
I offered him my hand without hesitation. He exhaled as the tremor started, and my chest clenched for his pain. He caressedmy palm with a quick gesture. When he stopped shivering, he brushed my wrist where a vein kicked. As he focused on my pulse, his lines smoothed down. The shivers diminished.
I lifted the hem of my sleeve, uncovering more skin for him to explore. The tremors started, and I feared I’d done too much.
He reached out with his slow, controlled movements. Anticipation built inside me as his fingertips were a grain of sand away from my skin. We both released shaky breaths when he touched me. There was more pressure in the brush.
He traced the path of a vein that travelled from my wrist to my elbow. My skin pebbled even though the stroke was light.
“Your skin…” He paused, staring at me in awe. “It’s so soft and smooth.”
He caressed my arm, using all his fingertips. The vein in my wrist kicked faster, attracting his immediate attention.
“The scent of your blood and skin drives me mad.”
I moaned when he stroked the hollow of my elbow. He drew in a breath, his lips parting. He stilled, and we shared that moment of deep intimacy, even though we were barely touching. He dipped his head and brushed his lips over my wrist. I sighed because somehow the kiss was charged with intense pleasure.
He kissed my wrist, darting the tip of his tongue out.
“You can bite me,” I whispered.
He raised his head. “No. I don’t want to turn our encounters into a reason for me to feed.” He caressed my palm. “You deserve better than that.”
My body warmed with his words.
