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Why did I have to jump right in when it was enough to dip a toe?
I pondered this for quite a while, leaning against the sideboard in the kitchen with my arms folded, ignoring the fact that we had taken apart a corpse here not so long ago.
Another thing like that she had caught me red-handed with. Instead of being disgusted or backing down, she had gone through with it and had been involved in the process until the end.
After she had asked me to be present at one of the hunts, I almost counted on her backing out at the very last second because it was just too much for her. Well, she had proven impressively that she had a strong stomach and knew exactly where scruples were appropriate and where it was better to forget them.
She fascinated me. I could not deny that. Despite everything she had already experienced, she didn't seem to lose the joy in her life. She did not become bitter, although she would have had every reason to do so. First her childhood and youth with her father, then the years she had spent alone working for Emilio. Finally, her father had caught with her, had tracked her down, and then forced her to marry me. Even then, she had let reason prevail over her first instinct and had gone along with it, knowing full well what a sacrifice she was making, not to her father or me, but to herself.
No matter how much effort I put into scaring her off and keeping her at a distance, she ignored it and did her best to somehow get through to me. And I didn't make it easy for her. I couldn't deny that in any case. To my shame, it didn't even stop there. Instead, she got along with Fiero and the rest of the family, didn't demonize me for what I was doing, and even offered me support whenever I needed it – in whatever form I needed.
One thing was absolutely certain: Amedea was a gift sent from heaven.
Once I focused on what happened when we got closer, not just the other unforgettable impressions, it was an understatement to say that she managed to control even my dreams. Dea made me regret continuing to hold on to not letting her into my bed.
Whenever I lay down in it, I had no choice but to think of her and the image that had formed in my mind. Her body would be perfect in the middle of the bed, her comparatively light skin contrasting against the dark fabric.
When her hair was around her head as if in a fan, she would look like an angel, yet that belied everything inside her.
Her exterior allowed no insight into the darkness I sometimes found within her. Whenever I put my hand around her petite neck and explored how good it felt to play death, she gave herself willingly.
Her trust ran deep enough that she surrendered her body unconditionally and firmly believed that I would never harm her intentionally or accidentally.
I didn't know what I did to deserve this, but it touched me deeply whenever I was confronted with it. When she lay in front of me, legs spread and ready to prepare the way for all the dark fantasies from my mind.
No sound was sweeter than the one that came out of her mouth when I brought her to orgasm. Except for when I heard my name on her lips. Full of desire. Full of ecstasy.
One thing that could be said with certainty: I was screwed. In every way I could think of. And I didn't like it.
Knowing how she slowly wrapped me around her little finger, this witch did not please me. I wasn't one of those men who let themselves be pushed around, whom you only had to pressure long enough to achieve what you actually wanted.
At least, that's what I had believed. Amedea seemed to want to prove me wrong.
I raised my head when I heard footsteps. A little later, Dea appeared in the doorway, arms folded and looking at me questioningly. As if it was still so unusual for her to see me leaning somewhere, deep in thought.
"You stand here, but you don't respond when I call your name?" she asked skeptically, maintaining a distance.
I had not noticed that she had called for me at all.
"Well, I guess I was a little distracted," I replied. Of course, I wouldn't admit that she had distracted me in more ways than one.
"Not tragic at all," she continued skeptically and entered the kitchen. She looked around but apparently did not see what she expected.
"Do you need help?" I asked, trying to figure out why she had come looking for me in the first place.
"Not exactly," she replied, looking directly at me. "There's an idea plaguing me that I just can't shake."
I raised an eyebrow. My interest was aroused, but her choice of words made me remain cautious. It rarely meant anything good when women took that tone and looked at you that way. Usually, they wanted something.
But Amedea hadn't asked me for anything yet. Not even to order or buy her anything, she took care of all these things herself and had access to an account that could easily cover all possible expenses.
"I'm all ears," I said skeptically.
She leaned against the sideboard with a thin grin and crossed her arms. "Ever since we hunted that night in the woods, I just can't get it out of my head what it would be like to have you chase me."
My heart skipped a beat. Had I just heard correctly, or was my brain playing a not very funny trick on me?
"You want me to hunt you?" I repeated slowly.
