Page 16 of Ashborne Forged

Then I found the flint and the candle.

When I struck the spark, Grace startled, then giggled at herself.

I lit the candle wick, then pressed it into the little holder next to the bed, dropping the flint back into the box, and slipping it back onto the shelf.

When I sat back again, it was to find Grace lying on her side, one hand under her temple on the pillow, her hair beautifully mussed, and cheeks pink. And her eyes…

Her eyes glowed.

My skin prickled as she stared at me, her gaze raking from my face, down the length of my body, to my thigh, my knee which was bent up, then down to my toes. A moment later she trailed that gaze all the way back up.

But when her eyes reached my hip, she reached out with one small hand, placed it flat at my waist, then drew her palm up to my chest, then my shoulder, and then back down.

“You keep doing that and there won’t be much talking,” I said gruffly, I loved the sensation of her touch. And, it was a peculiar joy to allow myself to simply sit there and soak it up.

Usually, with a woman, I was quick to find a reason for farewells. A benefit of being a Furyknight—there was rarely a question that my time was limited, and my responsibilities unavoidable.

Responsibilities.

Shit.

I was scheduled for patrol tomorrow afternoon.

“You’re beautiful,” Grace whispered. Her choice of words seemed odd, but Grace seemed to find beauty everywhere. I couldn’t help but smile when her hand drifted up to my shoulder again.

I finally allowed myself to turn and look at her—really look at her—in the golden light of the candle beside me.

God, she stole my breath.

Curled on her side, her knees bent, her body was a landscape of heights and valleys that I wanted nothing more than to explore, over and over.

The female form had always fascinated me—the ways a woman’s body curved and rolled, where ours were jagged and angular. But something about Grace was so much more, as if every crease and curve hid a secret I had yet to uncover. As if every new smile, or sound was a world of information I had yet to investigate.

And now, curled as she was, just at my side, her eyes sparkling and scanning my body, anticipation fizzed in my chest.

She must have felt it, because she smiled, and curled her fingers so her nails scraped on my skin. I twitched and spluttered when she ran fingers up the side of my ribs, and she giggled.

“You’re ticklish?”

“Not usually!” but I flinched and twitched until she moved her hand to my chest. Then I exhaled deeply.

“That was a heavy sigh.”

“It’s a relief to stop fighting the pull.” The words were true, and came without thought. But the moment they were out, I tensed. Would they remind her of how I’d hidden the truth?

Her stroking stopped briefly and I looked at her from the corner of my eye to measure her reaction—only to remember that I didn’t need to assess her expression. I could sense her. Feel her.

Swallowing, I turned my attention inward, to that space in my chest shaped just like her, prodding it gently.

Unease, but overwhelmed by delight. Curiosity. Some uncertainty. But all of it underlined with sheer, white light that glowed brighter when her eyes met mine.

I caught her hand when she began to pull it away. “Don’t stop. Please. I didn’t mean… I like your touch,” I admitted softly.

“Good,” she murmured. “Because I only want to sit up so I can see you properly.”

Relieved, I let go of her hand, but offered my arm to stabilize her as she pushed up to kneel on the bed next to me, then sat back on her heels.

Seated like that, she was so little, it was mildly unnerving. But so beautiful, I couldn’t stop staring. Her hair, loose around her shoulders, fell to cover most of her breasts. Her waist nipped in under her ribs, then flared again to her hips and thighs, which were round and growing muscular. Her thighs were so short compared to mine, it was hard to believe she wasn’t easily breakable.