Page 91 of Bound
Chapter 32
Amoret
Gage’s fingertips glide down my spine. Under my cheek, his heartbeat slows and he is warm. It’s not the heat that normally fills his skin, but something tamer. Softer.
Outside, the storm still beats down, the dull patter soothing, cocooning us in.
I tighten my arm around his muscular waist. He smoothes his fingers through my tangled hair, and the touch alone could make me fall back asleep.
“You’re quiet,” he rumbles.
“I am … at peace,” I admit.
He slides his calloused palm over the arm around him. “Same.”
That makes me lift up. To look at his face.
With his hair unbound, he is as beautiful as any Aos Sí. More so with my love for him. The stark white waves are lovely against the green pillowcases. A shade lighter than his eyes. The bed was made to frame his glory.
I press a kiss to his shoulder, his chest. “Are you?”
He brushes back my hair as it drapes over him, gazing in something like wonder at the strands. “I don’t know when I last felt this calm. Never, perhaps?”
I frown. “Gage.”
His eyes lift to mine. Something moves across his features. Removing my arm from his waist, he pulls away. He slips to the edge of the bed and remains turned from me, his broad back covered in shiny scars.
Burns.
He presses his forearms to his thighs and bows his head. The long curtain of his hair obscures his features. His expression.
I move toward him, hand raised to offer any comfort I can.
He climbs to his feet, his broad back and muscular rear flexing with the motion. The moment he bends for his discarded clothes, my heart sinks into my stomach.
“Gage?”
His hands flex in his jeans. “I shouldn’t have come here, Amoret.” There is a hollowness to his tone. A quiet that I don’t like. “It was careless.”
“Gage, I’m grown. I consented to everything that—”
He rounds on me. “Consented, Amoret?” I rock back at the anger in his voice. “You had no experience before last night. None. And I—”
“What, Gage?” I ask, anger spiraling through me. “Seduced me? Forced me?” I climb to my feet and glare at him. “I wanted you last night. I want you now. Even like this.”
Something like pain crosses his face. “Why?” The word comes out like a plea. “Why do you want me? I’m nothing.”
My jaw drops. I can’t help it. “Nothing?” I walk to him and his hold on his clothes grows desperate. Like it’s all that is keeping him in place. “You are you. You’re a warrior. A man.”
“I am not Aos Sí. I’m not a lord. I can’t …” He trails off, his face turning from mine.
“Is that what this is about?” He won’t meet my gaze now. “I don’t care that you have no title,” I admit. And I don’t.
But he winces like I struck him.
My hand raises to cup his face, to force him to look at me. “Gage—”
He moves back, keeping the distance between us. “Amoret, don’t.” I stare at him, and that sick feeling in my stomach grows. “Last night, this morning … It was a mistake.”
