Page 24 of Eldritch
“So, I have to become a heartless killing machine in order to effectively utilize the glyphs specific to me?”
“Death is in your blood. But you have a tendency to overthink. You search for the good in your opponent. And that is your weakness.”
“A weakness? Compassion is a weakness now?”
“Where utilizing your most deadly weapons to survive is concerned? Yes.”
What irritated me was that I couldn’t deny his argument. Even after Uncle Felix had attempted to violate me, there was still the split-second of hesitation on my part, for reasons I couldn’t explain. Remorse, even. That I could possibly feel anything, given what he’d tried to do, left me questioning the state of my mind. “And how do you tackle this…weakness.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, and once again, I found myself annoyed by the distraction of his exquisitely carved form. “I don’t think. I rely on instinct. Everything that moves toward me with purpose and intention is a threat. I react accordingly.”
My face tightened with a frown. “That’s terrifying. Imagine if I were angry at you.”
“Imagine if you were. In fact, I insist you try.”
“And risk getting burned to cinder? No thank you.”
“With instinct comes intuition. Your body language tells me everything I need to know. Whether you’re a true threat, or simply seeking my attention.” The arrogant smirk on his face left me wanting to taunt his instincts by smacking it right off him. He lifted his chin, and his nose twitched. “Are you wearing perfume?”
“Lavender oil. It’s good for the skin, and the scent calms me.”
“Do I make you nervous?”
I wanted to tell himyes. That I didn’t trust myself around him. That, from the moment I’d proposed it, I’d wanted to abandon the suggestion to keep our distance and revisit that smoldering ember of desire he’d stoked when we’d last shared a bed. Or that the only thing standing in the way of me acting on those desires was the uncertainty of everything—my sister and whether, or not, we’d get back to Aethyria. Looking at him, deliciously lethal and ironclad, stirred an unbearable ache low in my stomach. Had me feeling warm and cold at the same time, as if my body couldn’t decide between frustrated and aroused. And yes, I wore the damned lavender oil hoping he’d notice.
I hardened my jaw. “I suppose it might be the oversized spider humanoids that like to eat people making me nervous.”
Hands still resting on his hips, he shook his head and whistled. “The sarcasm is thick this morning, isn’t it?”
“Or perhaps you woke up in a mood to torment.”
“I woke up in a mood for something, but it surely wasn’t to torment,” he said casually, the insinuation sending a twitch to my thighs. “So, you wore perfume for the spiders?”
“It isn’t perfume!” The words snapped out of me like a whip, and I quickly slammed my mouth shut, exhaling a long breath through my nose to settle my nerves. “I’m sorry. I’m just a little tense with everything.”
He quirked a brow. “Perhaps you need something to relax.” He jerked his head. “Come.”
I narrowed my gaze. “Why? What do you intend to do?”
“Loosen you a bit.” The wolfish grin he wore set me on edge when he sauntered toward me, coming to a stand at my back. Hands gripped my shoulder, firm and warm, the heat sinking into my bones. “You are tense, aren’t you?” Strong fingers pressed into the knot at the base of my neck and my eyes nearly rolled back as he worked it loose, as if he knew the exact spot.He added more pressure, and I clamped my mouth over a quiet moan that nearly escaped.
He gathered my wrists at my back. “Bend forward,” he commanded, and I whipped my head to the side.
“What for?”
“A stretch?”
Reluctantly, I leaned forward as he held my arms, sliding a gentle hand down my spine to adjust my form.
“Stop when it hurts,” he said, but it didn’t hurt. It pulled my muscles in the most exquisite way. He lifted my arms just enough that I could feel the stretch across my chest, my breasts straining against the threadbare tunic.
It’s just a stretch, I told myself, but gods, it felt good.
I lowered into it and a stiff bulge pressed against my bottom. My back snapped ramrod against his chest.
Still holding my wrists captive, he slid his palm across my stomach, just skimming the waistband of my trousers. “This one is my favorite,” he said at my ear, his voice like warm velvet.
“This doesn’t feel like a stretch at all.”
