Page 94 of Haunted

I drop my fist and look squarely at Niawen. “Every day.”

She fights to keep her breath steady. “Your love was so perverse you cower at touch?” Her face pales.

“Not exactly. After welcoming you in my arms when you arrived, the way you clung so despairingly, so injured, and yet so fragile and innocent, I knew I couldn’t offer you more than the touch of my hand. Your embrace was too consuming. You burned my soul and nearly broke me. I’ve tried to be so careful since then.”

She smooths her hand down her neck. I want to kiss everywhere she touches.

I lean around the bedpost, hovering above her. “What I feel for you is not what I felt for her.”

“Who was it?”

I stare, willing her to realize so I don’t have to say her haunting name.

“It was her—the empress—Rhianu.”

“Yes,” I say softly.

She’s silent.

“Niawen, did you hear what I said?”

“Of course.”

“Not about the empress. About us. I said ‘I feel for you.’”

“You feel for me?” She rises and closes the distance between us. “What do you feel for me?”

I inhale. “So many things. An ache. A want. A need.”

“You’d rather possess me—own me.”

“I’m saying everything incorrectly. What I’m trying to say is I see you. I know you. I understand what you’ve been through. I want to protect you. I want… to kiss away your sadness.”

“But you don’t,” she whispers.

I whirl away, tensing, hesitating, but round back on her with fury. “By the light, Niawen! You won’t be satisfied until I do, will you?”

I lift my hand, but I don’t quite touch her. Touching her face would be divine though.

Dare I?

She is so still I picture a timid rabbit. She might bolt.

“The fear behind your eyes gives me pause,” I say.

“I’m not afraid of you.”

Her words are bold and stupid. I fight the urging in my fingertips—reach out or not?

Reach out.

My hands slide past her cheeks and into her hair. I lean in close and press my forehead to hers.

I want her so badly.

She feels so good. My fingertips sizzle under her skin.

She quivers slightly.

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