Page 38 of Bound to be Yours

I thought, unhelpfully, of the warmth of her palm against my cheek two nights past, and how long the ghost of it had lingered after she'd taken her hand away.

I smiled experimentally. The movement felt unnatural. A shallow indentation appeared beside my mouth. Hmm, I've never noticed that before. Then again, I've never really studied my reflection. I relaxed my expression. It vanished. I smiled again. There it was. I leaned closer. Curious. I touched it. It did not appear removable.

The next day we were back in the forest again. Every instinct I possessed warned me that something old stirred beneath the roots. Every shadow deserved scrutiny. Every silence warranted suspicion.

But somehow my attention was off and I found myself watching Poppy. Again. She moved several paces ahead of me, humming quietly to herself as she searched the forest floor. The tune possessed neither structure nor purpose. Humans frequently created music for reasons beyond my understanding.

She crouched beside a fallen log.

"No Silver Moss," she muttered. "Honestly, this forest needs better organization."

She stood. Brushed dirt from her jeans. Bent over again to inspect something near the base of an oak. Heat flared low in my abdomen. I stopped walking.

Ah. That. At least this reaction required no investigation. Desire was familiar. Predictable. I had existed for longer than human memory. Women had sought the attention of infernal hunters for reasons I had long since stopped questioning. Some sought power. Others danger. A surprising number simply found horns appealing.

I had accepted their company when it suited me. The pleasure they offered was uncomplicated. Temporary. Forgotten by morning.

I looked away from Poppy. Problem solved. Except...

The sensation remained. Hmm. Desire usually faded once the object of one's attention disappeared. Mine did not. Instead, another memory surfaced.

Poppy kneeling beside Mrs. Wilton that morning. Wrapping both arms around the elderly fairy. Holding her with astonishing gentleness. Mrs. Wilton had smiled before resting her cheek against Poppy's shoulder. The image had lingered in my thoughts all day.

Why?

I frowned. It had nothing to do with reproduction. Or pleasure. Or desire. It had looked... comforting. An unfamiliar sensation stirred somewhere behind my ribs. I disliked it immediately.

You rescued her. Repeatedly. My mind accused me.

I had. From beetles. From wandering into dangerous parts of the forest. From herself, on more than one occasion. She was remarkably talented at requiring rescue. That was all. Protective instincts. Nothing more.

So, why… was I wondering what it would feel like if she embraced me that way?

I came to an abrupt halt. Absolutely not. Infernal hunters did not... whatever that was. We fought wars. We ended them. We escorted souls across realms. We did not... hug.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

I looked up. Poppy had turned around. She tilted her head. "What?"