Fall of Ruin and Wrath (Awakening, #1)

“What?” I tensed as he started toward the bed.

“This whole time, you haven’t been afraid of me. You’re still not.” His head inclined to the constant movement of my fingers, opening and closing in my lap. “But you’re nervous. Unless you’re normally this fidgety?”

I bit down on my lip, stopping myself from immediately denying it. “I am normally this fidgety,” I admitted. “And you do make me nervous. If you said there was no reason to be, I’d still feel that way.”

“But I wouldn’t tell you that,” he said. “You should always be nervous around one like myself.”

“Oh,” I whispered. “That’s . . . that’s reassuring.”

The Hyhborn lord smiled. There was this razor-sharp, almost predatory edge to it. “But you don’t have to fear me. There is a difference between the two.”

“How would you know if I’m nervous or afraid?”

“It’s in the quickening of your breath and your heart.”

My brows lifted. “I . . . I didn’t know you could hear that?”

“It’s not so much hearing, but if we’re focused on an individual, tuned in to their essence, we can. It’s how we can feed.” A hint of smile briefly appeared. “And I’m focused on you enough that I can tell exactly what causes that hitch in your breath— when it’s not fear that causes a change in your breathing and when it’s pleasure.” A pause. “Arousal.”

I inhaled sharply. “I’m not— ”

“Going to lie to me? Because I’d know better.”

“I don’t think you do,” I countered as I scooted back, the shirt snagging around my thighs.

“But please do lie. It amuses me.”

I frowned at him, thinking that was odd.

He planted a knee on the bed. Our gazes locked, and the urge to ask if he recognized me hit hard. He obviously hadn’t. If so, he would’ve surely said something, but for some ridiculous, pointless reason I wanted to know if he even remembered.

“Do you— ” Something stopped me. I wasn’t sure what it was. Why would it matter if he did? Or if I told him that we’d met before?

Then it struck me.

It was my intuition. The heightened level of instinct. There had to be a reason for that, especially since my intuition rarely worked to my benefit. My intuition was stopping me. Why, I didn’t know, but my heart turned over heavily.

“Are you all right?” the Lord asked.

“Yeah. Yes.” I cleared my throat. “I’m just tired. It’s been a strange night.”

He stared at me for a moment. “That it has.”

The nervousness he sensed earlier returned. “We should be leaving before— ”

“I know,” he said, and then the Lord moved so unbelievably fast. He was above me before I took another breath.

His mere presence forced me onto my back. Our bodies didn’t touch, but he was caging me, his large frame blocking out the quarters— the entire realm— until it was only him. Only us. He brought his fingertips to my cheek. My entire body jerked at the touch. The blue swirled completely into the green of his eyes as he drew his fingers down my cheek, catching a strand of hair. He tucked it back, his gentleness shocking.

“You’re not afraid of me now,” he noted.

“No.” I sucked in a small breath as the pads of his fingers made another pass over my bottom lip. “Are you trying to make me afraid?”

“I’m not sure.”

A shiver of apprehension tinged with something I couldn’t acknowledge skated over my skin.

His gaze swept over my face and then lower, across my throat. “I know you said you were fine earlier, but in a few hours, the skin beneath your eyes and nose will darken, joining the bruises I left upon your throat. Let me change that.”

I stared at him. “You . . . you can do that?”

“There are many things I can do.” That half grin returned as my eyes narrowed. “Let me do this for you.”

Not having to worry about how I would explain the bruises would be a relief, but it was more curiosity than anything. I wasn’t sure how he could do this.

“You need to close your eyes,” he said.

“Really?”

“Really.” The starbursts in his pupils brightened.

Holding his stare for several moments, I nodded and then did as he requested. I closed my eyes. A heartbeat passed, then another, and nothing happened. I started to open my eyes but stopped. The fingers along the curve of my jaw . . . warmed. I felt his breath on my chin. Against my parted lips. I didn’t take more than a shallow, quick breath then. His breath moved up, and another tense second passed. Then I felt the soft press of his . . . his lips against the bridge of my nose. My entire body jerked.

“Stay still,” he ordered, his breath coasting over my cheek.

I tried to, but a tremor started, coursing through me. His mouth lifted. There was nothing . . . and then something— a strange tingling warmth. His breath played over the side of my throat and his lips followed. He kissed just below the wildly beating pulse. I sucked in a stuttered gasp as his hair grazed my chin, then his lips pressed against the other side. The shivery warmth blossomed to life there, and in a few moments, the aches I had forced to the back of my mind faded.

But the Lord didn’t move away.

His head remained bent, his lips pressed so softly against my throat, and a wholly different kind of warmth came alive once more, sending an aching pulse deep. This . . . this felt far more dangerous than being in the shower stall with him, but then his lips lifted from my skin. He drew back, and I wanted to feel immense relief. I should.

I didn’t.

Slowly, I opened my eyes. He remained above me, eyes half closed, and I thought . . . I thought I saw a faint golden glow around him, like I had thought I’d seen in the shower. Was it the lamplight? I didn’t think so. “Your kisses . . .” My voice sounded far too reedy. I cleared my throat. “Your kisses heal?”

“Some injuries.” The right side of his lips quirked. “Sometimes.”

I had the distinct impression he wasn’t being all that truthful. “I’m not sure if you realize this or not, but I think you’re kind of glowing.”

“It happens.”

“When . . . you’re feeding?” I guessed.

“Yes.”

I glanced down. My eyes went wide. “The wound on your chest is closed.” I glanced at his arms. Shiny, pink skin had appeared where the wounds had been in his biceps.

His fingers danced along the neckline of my borrowed shirt, while my own fingers were pressed flat against the bed, behaving themselves. They practically itched with the urge to touch him.

And why couldn’t I?

Well, there were a lot of reasons, likely ones I hadn’t even thought of yet, but I lifted a hand. Out of habit, I hesitated before placing my palm against his chest.

The Lord . . . he purred.

Skin warming, I drew my fingers over the carved slabs of hard muscle. Never could I become accustomed to the feel of a Hyhborn’s skin.

Never would I become used to being able to touch someone so easily.

He held still above me as I drew my hand down his chest, lips parted. I knew this couldn’t continue. We needed to get out of here. I needed to return to the manor, but . . . but my fingers drifted down, over the tightly packed muscle of his abdomen. I reached the loose band of his breeches. The tips of my fingers brushed over a hard, rounded—

A dark, shadowy sound rumbled from the Lord as he caught my wrist, stopping my exploration. “As much as I’d enjoy allowing you to continue, I fear we don’t have time for that.”

My gaze lifted. He was right. My fingers curled inward. “I know.”

He dipped his head as he lifted my hand to his mouth. I inhaled softly as he pressed a kiss to the center of my palm. Our gazes locked once more. The blue had covered all the other colors, becoming an intense shade of sapphire.

Then he was gone from above me, standing several feet away. His head cut sharply toward the window.

“Stay here,” he said softly.

Swallowing hard, I sat up, feeling dizzy doing so. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes.” His attention shifted back to me, the greens and brown becoming visible once more. “A . . . a friend has arrived.”