It is not for me to want. To keep.
But if Ennea did not intend for me to feel desire, why grant me the capacity for it?
She drew a breath. Lifted her chin. And turned, prepared to meet him.
Past the partition, Resh exhaled and sat at the edge of the cot. He needed something to do. Anything to keep from crossing that thin veil of fabric and falling to his knees.
The Resh’Agar was the Arm of War. But he was also a creature of flesh. He’d been bred to recognize desire. To wield it. To sense it. And what he’d felt today when he touched Auryn’s shoulders—when he caught the flush on her cheeks at the feast—had been raw. Honest. Unmistakable.
I nearly stole her away from them all.Nearly let my hands wander.
Frustration drove his focus to his armor. One of the lower plates bore a dent from the skirmish—not deep, but enough to command his focus. He unbuckled his shirt and belt, letting cool air bite his sweat-marked skin. Leather straps peeled free one by one. His chest rose and fell, scarred, inked with the black lattice of his Runesgram. He set the plates aside, fingers grazing the damaged edge.
Water trickled behind the partition.
Then silence.
A shift in the air.
The flap pulled aside.
He looked up—and forgot how to breathe.
She stood barefoot, hair loose in a silver cascade, wearing the gown he’d found her in when the ice still remembered her name. It clung in places, floated in others, thin fabric catching with every move. The neckline slipped low, baring the curve of her collarbone and the soft swell of her breasts. The skirt shimmered like starlight poured through water.
For a moment, silence.
Then—she steppedforward.
Her feet whispered against the rugs, the gown brushing her ankles. Just as she had all those days ago, tying that ribbon in his hair, she came to stand between his knees.
He met her gaze this time. And didn’t look away.
His eyes traced her bare shoulders, the rise of her breath, the way damp strands clung like silk against her skin. Those ethereal freckles dusted the tops of her shoulders, too—not just her cheeks. Like twinkling stars, they spread outward in a trail of misty light, kissing the swell of her chest and winding beneath the shimmering cloth. She glowed, though whether it was his longing or some truth of her nature, he couldn’t tell.
Leaning forward, he rested one elbow on his thigh, as his free hand reached for a fold of her gown. He caught it between his fingers, stroked the fabric, then lifted it to his lips.
“Do you realize,” he said, voice rough, “what you look like right now?”
She met his gaze. “I wanted you to see me.”
His tone sank lower. “I do. Clearly.”
Her throat bobbed.
He caught every quiver, every breath, every flicker of shyness in her limbs—and the fire behind her eyes.
“Starlight,” he murmured. His hands rose to rest on her hips, palms broad enough to span her belly. His touch was measured, controlled. Thumbs brushed her waist. Circling.
“If you stand between my knees like this again, in that gown no less…” his jaw tightened, “…I might forget every vow I’ve made not to touch you.”
She didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Instead, she reached up, sliding a strand of onyx hair behind his ear. “Perhaps I want you to forget,” she whispered. “It seems a foolish vow, when you haven’t asked what I want.”
Her scent—fresh from the bath—twined around him like incense. Droplets clung to the ends of her hair, a fine shimmer tracing her collarbone. His mouth went dry.
He lifted his gaze. Past the curve of her neck. Past the temptation of her lips. Until it locked with the silver depths of her eyes.
Auryn’s heart fluttered when their gazes met.
