Page 130 of Daughter of the Serpent

Andashes,it was true.

“Then, don’t think.” He said, a certain gleam in his eyes. His fingers brushed against hers, before intertwining with her own. “Let me show you the way.”

A gentle tug, and she spun - moonlight catching the shimmering fabric of her dress as he twirled her effortlessly into the night. The fairies thrived around them, a whirlwind of glitter. He pulled her back - her palms meeting the solid heat of his chest, his arms wrapping around her, firm yet gentle.

And for a moment, she was lost.

Lost in the curve of his lips, the sharp cut of his features, the quiet flicker of something deep, something dangerously warm, in his eyes. When he twirled her again, a rich, unrestrained laugh spilling from his lips - so rare, so devastatingly perfect, it shattered the walls she had tried to keep between them. As she spun back into his arms, she faltered, caught - not by misstep, but by him. His eyes, his smile -gods, his smile.She had never thought he could be more beautiful, more striking than he already was, until that moment. Until he laughed. And laughed because of her. With such an awareness the world seemed to narrow to nothing but him, the rhythm of her own pulse, and the space between their breaths.

A smile of her own then tugged at her mouth, unbidden and utterly his doing as he held her close, swaying in perfect time to the music.

“I never imagined you’d know how to dance.” She said, a light blush igniting her cheeks. He had always been the stoic warrior - so serious, intense, unyielding. Yet here, beneath the moonlight, he was different. Lighter. As if with every touch, every brush of his hand against her skin, something in him shifted. His smile came easier, his shoulders lost their rigid edge.

It was a rare sight.

One she knew, deep down, she would want to remember.

“A skill just as vital as wielding an axe or blade…” His gaze lowered. “Is knowing how to handle a woman.”

Heat curled low in her stomach in response, a slow - burning fire she couldn’t smother.

“And how does a warrior like you come by such a skill?” She shifted coyly in his arms, not to pull away, but to shift the tension between them.

His fingers flexed in answer, not letting her go. “You think warriors of the north do not know pleasure?”

Axel leaned in just enough for his breath to graze her ear. “You couldn’t be more wrong.”

She swallowed hard, pulse hammering.

“Music and song, dance and spirit - these are sacred to the Hazier.” He explained, and she was captured whole in his eyes. “For what greater gift could one offer the gods than the breath of their lungs?” he murmured, his fingers tracing a slow, featherlight path down her arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. “The passion in their heart?”

Her lips parted, a sharp inhale betraying her.

“The offering of their body?”

His hand slid lower, grazing the curve of her hip, and his touch was intoxicating. His voice was like smoke and sin, curling around her, daring her to let it in.

“Such a luxury is not afforded to those bound to the temple.” She told him. “We are to remain chaste, pure - untouched.”

His voice, dark and rich, cut through the space between them. “And yet…what could be more holy than the pleasure of one's body?” His eyes flickered with curiosity as he studied her reactions. “Why have such a desire at all, if it is not meant to be satisfied?”

The question lingered, and she had no answer. No rebuttal. It was the same question she had asked herself in the quietest of moments, a truth she dared not speak aloud.

“You’ve felt it,” he said, his voice a whisper now, the kind that crawled under her skin and made her blood quicken. “Haven’t you?”

He shifted.

“The fire.” He paused. “The ache.” His touch skimmed lower, his palm splaying at the small of her back, pressing her just enough to feel him. “Everything they told you to deny.”

Sylvie swallowed hard, her throat dry, her thoughts scrambling for an escape. Her voice cracked when she finally spoke, barely above a whisper.

“And if I have?”

Axel leaned in, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him, close enough that his words brushed against her like a flame. “Then you already know,” The edge of his mouth curved, wicked, knowing. His gaze dipped to her lips.

“You’re not meant to be tamed.”

A sharp pulse of desire thundered through her in answer to his words, so rich, so laced with heat it made her stomach curl. As he looked at her now she became even more aware of him, his closeness, his achingly intoxicating scent. Her skin burned where he touched, and where he hadn’t yet.

---