Page 129 of Bound
I turn to her, once more arrested by her innocence. But also the strength I now know lingers under her flawless skin. I bend low and my unbound hair slides over my shoulder with the motion. When I peer up at her, her cheeks flush that delectable shade of pink.
“There is not a beauty to match yours,” I tell her and mean it more than I have ever meant anything else.
Her lips part and a flash of desire leaves my gut smoldering.
“I must say,” Bran says into the tension. “Alport could put the Aos Sí to shame with this ball.” He glances around at the overhauled main room.
Even I have to admit, Markus and Raina outdid themselves.
Using the colony colors of topaz and white, they hid the wood paneling and modern human technology behind long gossamer and silk curtains. The chandeliers are soft twinkling lights above and candelabras line the room, their flickering glow bouncing off glass sculptures and expensive wyverns in ice. The doors are open onto the night, letting in warm summer air and a freshness that holds no comparison.
It almost seems as though nature is celebrating along with us.
“I have no idea how they put it all together so fast,” I say, “but between RainaandMarkus, I’m not even surprised.”
Bran chuckles. “I find Lord Alport to be an enterprising man. Perhaps I would have enjoyed knowing him in his youth.”
Considering how bloodthirsty Markus was, I doubt it.
But I also don’t say it aloud.
“We will depart in the morning,” Bran adds. “Markus has assured me that you will lead the escort.”
I glance at him. “Me?”
One pale brow raises. “Regardless of my personal feelings, you got all of us out of that horrid human lab, Whitehorn. I will trust no one else to see us on our way back to the Sith.”
Amoret beams at his side, and my happiness is tempered by the truth.
She leaves tomorrow.
The room grows too loud. Too hot.
No. Not the room.
Me.
I back up, feeling the fire course through my limbs. “Please excuse me. Branwen. Amoret.”
Ignoring Tanner’s narrowed gaze, I break for the door and rush outside. I press my back to the trunk of the thick oak off the garden and fumble at my collar. The air is humid again with another storm, heavy and thick. I force several deep lungfuls into my body, hoping to tame my fire.
But it wants to rage.
All the time I had left with her has been consumed by trying to find Ralf and the trial. This time tomorrow she will leave.
“Gage?” Amoret’s voice leaves a groan slipping from my lips. Her soft footfalls sound over the sidewalk and she appears at the corner of the manor, one hand holding her skirts from brushing the grass. She looks around. “Gage?”
For a moment I consider staying silent.
“Here,” I croak.
She turns at the sound of my voice, her eyes squinting to see me in the shadows. “Gage, are you okay?” she asks, coming closer.
My eyes roam over her body where the dress blankets her curves. The pert press of her breasts. The wider breadth of her hips. Her small stomach.
“Gage?” she steps under the tree with me, her expression clouded. “Are you well? Do I need to get the others?”
No.
