Page 80 of Bound
Chapter 29
Gage
I hover in the hall outside Amoret’s door. It’s late. After 3AM. But the world is calm around me. Quiet.
Everyone has gone to bed, and I have been smoking my way through my new batch of Black Dream. The slight buzz to my senses is a bad sign. I’ve passed mellow and dived into fucked up.
It’s the only reason I’m even in this damn hall.
This shit could have waited until morning. But I know Amoret. She’s going to want to see Jarrah. And I can’t stop that. But more than that, I need to seeherright now. I need her light. Her kindness.
Her innocence.
I knock softly.
No answer.
She’s probably asleep, I know it. It’s where I should be. But I can’t sleep. Not yet.
I try the knob, needing to verify she is okay.
The door opens under my hold, and I peer into a dark room with a made bed. No petite body in sight.
My buzz fades on a wash of adrenaline and I step into her chambers, lips opening to shout a warning.
Movement outside draws my eyes. Frozen, I watch Amoret from the doorway, unable to look away. To even consider looking away.
Her long golden hair is like a curtain around her petite frame, blanketing her in its glory. She stands in the small pool, her head back and her arms spread at her sides, like a goddess in the middle of a rite.
The only thing covering her is a thin sheath of white lace. The fabric clings to shapely thighs and a plump rear.
My length hardens painfully in my jeans, and my hand tightens over the door.
For a moment, I consider speaking. To draw her bright gaze to me.
But I also can’t stand in the doorway and stare either.
Damn it.
“Amoret?” My voice is soft in the dimness. Hesitant.
Her head whips over and she stares at me across the distance. A flush tracks her heart-shaped face, filling her cheeks with life. She scrambles from the pool and dives into the shadows beside the thin saplings in the enclosed space.
“Gage?” her tone is all sweet surprise.
I scan the room. A thin silk robe lays across the bed. I lift it and take it out to her, careful to keep my eyes averted. “I’m sorry,” I mutter. “I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
She snatches the robe from my grasp as soon as I get near. Fixing my attention on a brick high on the wall, I can hear the shuffle of branches and the soft cinch of silk.
“I’m … covered.”
Unfortunately.
I glance over my shoulder and fight not to groan.
The robe doesn’t help. At all.
Her small body is now pressing at the fabric, showing every curve, the shape of her hips, the peak of her budding nipples.
