Tucking his hands into his pockets, he seemed to think for a second. “I can touch you without causing either you or myself harm.”
Turning her face to the side, she shook her head, unable to speak, afraid that if she did she’d tell him just how much her traitorous body wanted that. How even after the horrors of the night, she’d tempt pain all over again because he’d made her feel alive in a way she hadn’t ever before. That a siren, once bloomed, could not deny the passion of desire. That she needed more and more and more.
Rumpel, against her will, had made her come alive.
“Carrot…” He stepped a toe toward her. “I will not do to you what I did last night, not again.”
His words were so soft, so gentle, that it was difficult for her to keep from looking at him.
“You want to know what I want? I want you,” he continued and it was like someone had her heart in a vise and was squeezing.
He couldn’t possibly mean it.
“You intrigue me, tempt me beyond measure.”
Jerking her gaze to his, she shook her head. Because it had to be a lie.
“Your fear is palpable to me, and for that, I’m sorry. I acted in a manner most abhorrent to you; it will not happen again. But know this, little siren, the second you want it, I can give it to you. And next time”—he took a step closer—“I will make it so you do not feel the agony of pain once we finish.”
“You say these things, but how can I believe you? My charms make liars of men, make them believe it is love, desire, when it is nothing more than the chemical of my body calling to theirs. I will not become slave to the obsession that comes from this.”
His jaw clenched. “Shayera Caron, I am more than any man you’ve ever known. I say only what I mean and I can control my baser urges. I am demone, and I have powers beyond imagining. Now come and enjoy my gardens.”
And this time when she looked it wasn’t thunder and lightning but a verdant, lush meditation garden. A large blossoming cherry tree sat in the center of an island that could only be reached by an ivory bridge. A sparkling brook threaded through rolling hills of green, and mated doves filled the world with their sweet song.
But directly in front of her was a large pile of boulders that ran straight up into eternity and falling down its face, a flowing waterfall.
She couldn’t help the smile that spread across her lips.
“You should smile often.”
Blinking, she chose to ignore that comment and touched her cheek. “This is so beautiful.”
“Yes, I crave beauty. Desire it with my every fiber.” As he talked he walked, and she followed as he led her toward the bridge.
“Is that why you collect so much?”
“It is. I surround myself with that which I did not know from my life before.”
The ivory bridge sparkled in the sunlight. The world around them was so magical, so private, that it felt as though she and he were the only ones in all the world. “Then if you insist on calling me Carrot, should I call you Magpie?”
He laughed and tossed his head back and she could hardly breathe. He was beautiful. It wasn’t something she normally thought of a man, especially not one as potently masculine as Rumpel, but he was. The bottom of his shirt lifted just a little, exposing a sliver of sun-kissed skin and tight, rippling muscles, and thinking was just too hard. She was on sensory overload.
“Not if you want to keep that delicious tongue in your mouth.”
Heat blossomed in her cheeks and try as she might, she couldn’t keep her charms tamped down the way she should. The tendrils of her power poured from her in a wave, and it was his turn to stare.
Gripping the railing, he dipped his chin. “Turn it down, siren.”
His body was so tense, so rigid, his muscles visibly quaked beneath his shirt. His knuckles were white and as much as she didn’t want to always live so controlled, she knew it wasn’t fair to him. He was trying to be honorable, and therefore, so should she. She pulled it back in.
Going lax, he sighed and then chuckled. “No wonder they hated you. Their men never stood a chance, did they?”
Staring at her from the corners of his eyes, he grinned.
“Living there was so hard. No one believed me. I tried constantly to keep it away. I dressed in rags, I kept my distance…”
Her words trailed off and she bit down on her lower lip. She could still remember the last day she’d left her house, that is, before Rumpel.
“What happened to you there? I know something did. No woman as beautiful as you would dress as you did unless they wished to hide.”
Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she stared at the cherry tree, watched as a fully bloomed flower broke off its branch and floated gracefully to the pond beneath it.
“I was nine.”
A growl ripped from his throat. “Who hurt you?”