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Chapter Nine
Sunlightbathedtheroomin brilliant light when Rukia woke up the following morning. Flinching at the brightness, Rukia threw an arm over her squinting eyes when she belatedly realized she wasn’t alone.
Against her back, she could feel the masculine panes of Isaiah’s chest, the calming scent of evergreen and spice saturating the air around her. One muscled forearm was curled securely about her waist while one of his legs was tangled between hers. The possessive hold ignited a spark of heat in her blood.
And then, it all came crashing back.
Gideon.
A sob strangled in her throat before she could halt the noise, the searing pain of his loss splitting through her. Tears pricked in her eyes before she squeezed them shut in an effort to abate the ache. The man behind her sprang to life, the cocoon of his embrace tightening softly as his thumb tenderly stroked her forearm where their skin touched.
Rukia gave in. Weeping openly, she let agony seep out of her with the tears that never seemed to want to stop. Everything in her cried out at the unfairness of Gideon’s attack, the unrighteous vengeance that had stolen him from his place in their lives.
And now, she’d woken up beside the man who had said he’d like to bed her at first meeting. Here was a man she’d sworn to loathe for the rest of her immortal life, seeing to her needs and caring for her when she’d crumbled.
Isaiah had abandoned his clan—if only for one night—to ensure her wellbeing. She couldn’t remember how she’d gotten home, but she did remember feeling safe in his arms. Sleep had come quickly once he’d conceded to lay beside her.
Waking up in his arms was like finding an island of peace when the waters of life raged around her. He was safe, he was secure, and as long as she didn’t leave the island, she’d survive.
Had she been so wrong about him? Why did his presence feel soright?
Everything about their intimate embrace played into the fathomless depths of her soul, attempting to fill the hollow in her gut that’d gauged out when Gideon had been attacked. The thought that right now, Rona was caught in the unknown—not knowing whether he was alive or dead—while Rukia had found some semblance of peace?
It gutted her.
Isaiah didn’t miss it. “Would you like me to leave?”
His deep voice was a sultry caress in her ear, but nothing in his question was anything other than tragically respectful. Isaiah’s voice, regardless of setting, had always held that power over her—whether she cared to admit it or not.
For a beat, she didn’t speak. Couldn’t speak.
Isaiah, taking that as her answer, made a move to extract himself from the nest of their embrace. As the warmth of his body suddenly retreated from her back, she cringed. That was when her fingers locked around his wrist.Again.
“No.”
She’d growled the word so hoarsely that it took her by surprise. The Raeth behind her stilled, pausing in his effort to untangle himself. An uncertain sound escaped from his throat in the seconds that followed, but she didn’t release him.
Breathing, she tried to relax enough to form coherent thoughts. The tidal wave of emotion churned just below the surface, ranging the gamut from uncertainty to neediness to possessiveness. All of them related to him, and all of them making her head spin.
One thing was certain. “I don’t want you to leave.”
When she made a move to sit up, he followed her lead. Turning, she looked over her shoulder at the handsome face she’d been sneering at since day one.
The Raeth merely waited on her to take the lead, his almond eyes so dark that they were almost obsidian. Seemingly carved out of granite, Isaiah’s strong jawline was faintly shadowed, and her fingers yearned to stroke the fine peppering of black. A clean crew cut, as classic as it was practical, completed the look.
He was perfection given form. Though she’d been loath to admit it before now, he was devastatingly handsome. His flawless features were captivating, and she longed to run her fingers from his broad shoulders down to where they tapered to a lithely muscled body. Even at rest, his body held a telling tension, poised to explode into movement at the slightest provocation. Isaiah was a warrior by creed and a leader by trade.
Nothing about him was weak.
Rukia could admit that Isaiah had awoken things in her that she hadn’t known were even there. And now, when she’d asked him to stay, he merely remained silent, knowing she’d speak when she wanted to.
She continued to hold his wrist, her fingers curled ever tighter. Intensity sparked between them while she held him prisoner, a flush of heat rising under her skin. The longer Rukia maintained eye contact with the Raeth across from her, the more drawn to him she became.
Eyes flicking down to the fullness of his lips, she bit hers in an effort to assuage the desire that blistered through her blood. Goosebumps pricked over her skin. She’d held herself back far too long when it came to Isaiah, and now, the disconcerting man was in her bedroom, so close that she could feel the tickle of his breath against her skin.
Isaiah broke eye contact, standing abruptly. “I should go, Rukia.”
Anger pierced through her, fully conscious that his retreat was a denial of the urge she knew he shared. “Scared?”
