Page 56 of The Seeker

Despite everything he had put me through and the small flicker of anger that still burned, I loved Otho.

Weighted or not, I loved how broody he was, and how he would only come out of his shell for me. I loved the way his hair would fall in front of his eyes, and the way he ran his fingers through it when he was under stress. I loved how we could have deep conversations about anything, and even though he would sometimes be angry at first, we could always come to an agreement. And I especially loved the way he wanted the best for me, even when I forgot to place myself first in my life.

But instead of rejoicing, all I could think about was the tendril of fear that weaved through me at my realization.

My love for Otho could be used against me.

CHAPTER 18

“You’re quiet. Everything okay?” Otho asked as he ushered me into the inn, his hand resting on my lower back.

“Yes,” I replied forcing a smile on my face. I was glad he didn’t have the empathy magic needed to call my bluff.

Our room was dark, and Otho lit the bedside lamp before sitting on the bed. I bit my lip. I knew what would come next, and I was ready for it . . . but also nervous.

“Come here,” he whispered, beckoning me forward.

Like I had earlier that day, I stood between his legs, his hands wrapping around my back. The silence was heavy between us, both of us too nervous to say the words that would propel this forward.

Otho’s resolved crumbled first, his gaze drinking me in as his fingers vibrated where they circled my waist. “I . . . er . . . Have you had enough space?”

I sucked my lower lip into my mouth. Otho and I hadn’t crossed this line. We almost had but then . . . I gulped, shoving thoughts of Leif away. “I . . . I think so.” My hands shook as I rested them on his shoulders. “I’m . . . scared.”

“I didn’t look that day . . . in the keep.”

He didn’t have to elaborate. “I know,” I breathed.

“I didn’t want . . .”

The room filled with a heavy silence as I brushed my thumbs over the muscles in his shoulders. “I’m . . . I’m ready.”

Otho sighed with relief, pulling me closer until I was sitting on his knee. “We can stop anytime you want, I promise.”

I nodded my consent, and he didn’t hesitate, his fingers diving beneath my hem to tug my shirt over my head.

“This looked amazing on you, by the way,” he hissed as his eyes trailed down my front. He was quick to add my brassiere to the growing pile of clothes, a groan leaving his lips as he took me in, brushing a single finger over my tattoo. A shiver went through me. “You’re so beautiful.”

I didn’t know how to reply to that, so I reached for his shirt, peeling it from his body like he had mine.

Otho shirtless was a sight to behold, and I gasped as I took him in. He was well-muscled from his military training, and his arms and torso were crisscrossed with scars. I traced the one on his peck which divided the tattoo there. Though I’d seen him without a shirt once before, things felt different now.

“Are all these from training?”

He shook his head. “Some are from my brother. Some of them from arrows when rescuing a beautiful spy from the trap I sent her into.”

I groaned, remembering the day I’d first seen him shirtless. This was different, however, as now I really had time to study him and to trace the tattoos.

“Some are from Cal and Friar.”

I arched my eyebrow.

“We played rough as kids.”

I nodded, my hands trailing down to his waistband. But he stopped them, covering my hands with his own. “I believe it’s my turn.”

Even though this was far from my first time, my nerves still spiked as his hands drifted to the laces on my breeches and his tongue flicked at one of my exposed nipples. I sucked my bottom lip into my mouth.

Otho paused his motions, his thumb pressing down on my chin to force my teeth to release my lip. “Stop. You’re beautiful to me, no matter what.”