Page 23 of Power of Five
Thethisis over my head and off me in a heartbeat, Shade’s calloused palm brushing down the groove of my spine, wiping away stray grains of sand from my bruises and cuts.
I shudder.
Shade’s hand on my hip tightens, pinning me in place against his hard, warm body. “The mortal world dampens my magic,” he says into my ear, his voice soothing even as his probing fingers give no quarter. “But I’ll heal this once we are in Lunos. And we’ll make sure no one leaves these on you again.” Shade touches one of the marks from Zake’s belt, his soft voice laced with violence.
I glance over my shoulder and snort. “As those account for about one tenth of my current bruises, that’s hardly reassuring.”
Shade flinches.
“No,” I twist toward him, coming up to my knees. Apparently, I like him flinching as little as he tolerated me shuddering. “It was a jest,” I say, my hand reaching up to brush Shade’s hair from his face. The lock is shiny and softer than I expected, springing right back into place the moment I release it.
Shade’s neck bobs and he catches my wrist, the few inches of air between us suddenly thick. Crackling. His mouth opens slightly, the elongated canines near and sharp and glistening with danger. My chest tightens, my breath suddenly gone from my lungs.
“You... have long lashes,” I say, leaning closer. “Girls would kill for those.”
“I have many long things,” Shade breathes, his hand cupping the back of my head, tangling in my hair. “Patience, it seems, is not one of them.”
I open my lips to respond, only to find Shade’s mouth covering mine, his lips soft and warm enough to heat a whole palace. My own mouth yields in answer, and Shade’s kiss deepens, the hand in my hair tightening until my whole scalp tingles. Sings.Stars.
Shade pulls away slowly, his canines gently scraping my lower lip as I moan softly into him.
My heart pounds, the warmth between my legs a downright flame, and I try to catch my breath. “Did you plan that?” I demand.
Shade grins, makes a noncommittal sound, and turns back into his wolf, demonstratively making a circle on my bed before curling up with his tail over his nose. His body manages to press against my back, his rhythmic breathing soothing and steady.
“Why do you do that?” I ask when I can speak again. “Stay in your wolf form so much?”
No answer.
“Being a wolf to avoid talking to me while lounging around on my bedding is a dirty, cowardly trick.”
Shade snorts, buries his head deeper beneath his paws, and settles into a calm sleep punctuated by soft snores that turn into whimpers when I shift out of reach. Frowning, I move closer, resting my hand on the sleeping wolf’s flank. The whimpering stops, the rhythmic rise of his chest and his twitching eyelids speaking of a dream-filled slumber.
