Page 156 of The Stars are Dying

“You want me to wear something that belongs to a past lover of yours?”

Nyte’s mouth curled with amusement. “I would rather you wore nothing at all.”

I held out my hand for it with a scowl. “Look away.”

He leaned down to pass me the lilac gown. “As you wish.” His lips brushed mine with the stroke of his fingers under my chin.

I melted under his true touch.

Nyte focused his attention on the bathtub, running the water and finding liquid soaps that wafted welcoming lavender and honey through the air. The scent was so embracing it tugged on something within me.

I didn’t waste time folding out of my combat wears, hissing at the sting of my leg and then remembering the long cut across my arm. As I slipped into the sleeveless silk I tried to examine the injury from Calix.

A soft touch landed on my arm before I could see the full extent of the wound. Nyte’s emotions were becoming so palpable they had to have entangled with mine. This time his rage was wrapped with vengeance, reflected in the hard lines of his face as he continued to look me over for other marks.

“Who did this?”

I shivered at the dark tone. His sight became fixed with scary calculation on my neck, and I remembered Calix’s hands tightening around it as I swallowed.

“He didn’t mean it.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

“I can’t tell you.” Because I feared what he would do.

Nyte stepped forward, forcing me back until my calves met the bed. His arm wrapped around my waist to lower me slowly before I could fall. “I don’t need you to tell me, but I would rather it came from you.”

Our eyes met, a challenge radiating between us.

Nyte lowered, never breaking my stare as he dragged the bowl of water over. “You faced your wrath,” he coaxed. “It’s always something physical, though not often truly real.”

“Stop trying to figure it out.”

“You can enjoy puzzles, but I cannot?”

My mouth tugged at that. Nyte dipped the cloth into the basin.

“This isn’t a puzzle. And I don’t need you to seek vengeance on my behalf. I will heal.”

“The act won’t be erased when it leaves your skin.”

I was pretty sure it would scar, but I didn’t voice what would fuel the fire in his irises. “No. But forgiveness is just as healing to the wound within.”

His fingers curled around my calf, trailing up slowly. Sparks shot to my core, making me all too aware of every inch of my exposed skin. My breasts tightened. He would see them through the thin silk fabric, but he didn’t look. He didn’t have to.

“You have far more restraint than I do,” he said. “Keep your eyes on me.”

I did, and as he poured the alcohol over my thigh I hissed, reaching to clutch his wrist, but the sting was surprisingly faint. My body relaxed.

“How do you do that?” I asked.

“By tricking your pain receptors,” he answered casually, bringing the warm cloth to my skin.

“I understand that,” I muttered. “Your magick…what is it?”

“Many things.”

“You have to tell mesomethings about you,” I pleaded.

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