Fall of Ruin and Wrath (Awakening, #1)

Air leaked from my lips. His fingers were denting the ceramic tile.

The Lord lifted his hand then, cupping my chin. A strange sound rumbled up my throat, one I didn’t think I’d ever made before. I was barely able to bite back the moan. His touch was featherlight, barely there, but my senses went haywire. I felt it in every part of my being. He tipped my head back. His eyes . . . those colors were a dizzying kaleidoscope, and spots of white appeared in his pupils. Our gazes connected, and I braced myself out of habit, but I . . . I still saw and heard nothing.

His fingers— the same that had just dented ceramic— grazed my cheek, catching the strands of hair there. Soapy bubbles seeped between my fingers as I stood there, heart racing out of control. He tucked the hair back behind my ear, hand then sliding to my jaw, and I swore I felt that light touch throughout the entirety of my body. His other hand found the soap I currently had in a death grip. He pried it from my fingers, placing it on the ledge.

Heat returned, flushing my skin and invading my blood. My chest ached, becoming heavy. Desire, hot and dark, pulsed through me. He barely touched me. Just a featherlight brush against my jaw, and my entire body throbbed. I’d never in my life been so . . . so viscerally affected.

The Lord stepped in closer, as if I had willed him to, and that was just a silly thought, but somehow, I’d moved too. His cock brushed my belly, and I shuddered, the very core of me tightening. Tiny tremors racked my entire body. My fingers practically ached with the want to touch him.

The need to touch him.





CHAPTER 6


I truly had never felt such need before. I ached as I lifted my hand—

Then it struck me.

The why behind such need.

Hyhborn exuded sensuality, in their voices and in their touch, and that carnal lushness spilled into the air around them, influencing even the most pious of lowborn to be a little bit wicked. It was why the upcoming Feasts became exactly what I’d said to Naomi earlier— a decadent indulgence in all things carnal.

That had to be the cause of my reaction to him.

That and the fact that he was, well, more than just pleasant to look upon, and we both were completely nude.

My heart beat so fast I thought it might actually give out on me as my gaze lowered, falling to the wound on his chest.

The sight of the nearly healed wound brought forth a semblance of common sense.

Sucking in a sharp breath, I took a step back. His hand slipped from my jaw, leaving a swirl of tingles behind.

“I need to dry off. Excuse me.” I left the stall, quickly grabbing one of the towels. I wrapped it around me, then gathered up my clothing and quickly left the bathing chamber.

Water dripped from me as I entered the unfamiliar bedchamber. I dried off hastily, my mind a mess as I went to the wardrobe. I searched until I found a suitable shirt. There was no way I could put that nightgown back on. I was going to have to burn it. Maybe the cloak too— something I would’ve never considered during my time before Archwood. Bloody. Soiled. It hadn’t mattered. Clothing had simply been clothing.

The shirt I pulled out was soft and worn, reaching my knees. It was completely inappropriate to be dressed as such, but it was shapeless and provided the same amount of coverage as the nightgown I had worn and half of my gowns. And besides, I had just been completely nude.

I just . . . just felt different.

As did the near-raw reaction to him— my want of him. It was entirely too animalistic, too primal.

Rooting around in the wardrobe, I found a pair of clean breeches that looked like they could fit the Lord. I pulled them out and another shirt, this one white, draping both over the corner of the bed.

Hearing the water turn off, I tugged the loose strands of hair free from the collar of the shirt. Making my way to the small table, I turned on the lamp and then poured a glass of water for him and one for myself. I downed the liquid, but it was of no help in calming my heart or nerves. I sat on the edge of the bed, thinking I probably should’ve taken the time to bolt.

I had no idea what time it was, but the city streets outside the home were quiet. Morning must be only hours away. I touched the bridge of my nose and winced at the flare of dull pain. How was I going to explain this?

Hearing the bathing chamber open, I lowered my hand to my lap. “There is water on the table,” I told him. “I poured you a glass and found you some clothing that might fit.”

“Appreciated.”

I peeked up then, my gaze traveling over the corded muscles of his back as he walked toward the cupboard. He wore nothing more than the towel wrapped around his hips, and that was, well, simply indecent in the most delicious way I certainly wasn’t acknowledging.

The Lord was silent as he drank the water, filled a third glass, and finished that off too. That was good— him drinking so much water. I watched him place the glass on the table, then turn for the clothing. He picked up the black breeches.

“These will do,” he said.

“Good.”

He undid the towel, and I quickly looked away, face warming despite all that I’d said. When I was sure he was at least partially clothed, I glanced over to find that he had donned the breeches. They were loose at his waist, hanging low on his hips.

I blinked in surprise. The wounds on his arms and in his chest appeared to be almost gone. I looked up at his face. The faint traces of bruises that had remained while he’d been in the shower were completely gone. A tingling sensation swept through me as I took in the Lord’s high, angled cheekbones and the straight, proud nose. His jaw cut a hard, carved line, and his mouth was wide and lush. There was a faint, almost feline quality to his features now visible without the bruising. It was like looking at a work of art that one feared to appreciate because the beauty was unsettling.

“Your wounds,” I managed.

“They’re healing,” he answered. His hair was slicked back from his face. “Thanks to you.”

There was an unsteady flutter in my chest. “I didn’t do much.”

He eyed me for a moment. “Do you know why Hyhborn have such a sensual effect on mortals?”

His question caught me off guard, and it took me a moment to answer. “I know some . . . things about what helps strengthen a Hyhborn.”

One side of his lips curved up. “And do these things you know involve pleasure?”

“I know that Hyhborn . . .” I struggled to find an accurate word to describe what I’d heard.

The Lord, however, did not. “Feed?”

I nodded, feeling my skin warm a bit. “I’m not sure how I’ve been of aid to you in that area.”

“Na’laa,” he murmured, chuckling. “You found great pleasure in aiding me in the shower. Not that you are unaware of that.”

Snapping my mouth shut, I looked away. I wasn’t unaware of that. I’d just forgotten in the moment that my pleasure in the simple act of touching him was something that could help him.

“We don’t just feed on the pleasure of others,” he added after a moment. “We also feed on our own pleasure. I too enjoyed the shower.”

I peeked at him, for some idiotic reason pleased that he’d enjoyed it.

“But you did even more than you realize,” he continued. “You saved lives tonight.”

Lives? Namely his. Uncomfortable with that idea and even more that I was disquieted by that fact, I squirmed. “You don’t know. You could’ve escaped.”

“Oh, I would’ve definitely escaped once I came to,” he said. “My purpose for being here wouldn’t matter. I would’ve leveled half this town. I would’ve left nothing but ash and ruin behind.”

My chest clenched. “You . . . you would’ve done that?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t have been pleased with what I’d done. I take no joy in the killing of innocents, but my guilt wouldn’t have undone my actions or made up for them, now would it have?”

“No,” I whispered, unsettled by what he was sharing— by how close Archwood had come to destruction.

“Interesting.”