Page 114 of An Empress of Air & Chaos

To even tell him she was ready…

She couldn’t stand being in here any longer.

She pushed her legs off the bed only to feel a warm hand on hers. Without meeting Gideon’s gaze, she forced a polite smile. “I’d better go.” She pulled her hand from underneath his. “Cally will never forgive me if I don’t start her pre-uplift preparations early.”

“You don’t have to go just yet,” he begged.

“I do,” she replied quickly.

“I will see you tonight,” he promised, his tone insistent for a response.

But instead, she pulled up the strap that had fallen down her arm and padded to the door in her bare feet. She closed it without looking back.

When the door clicked into place, she filled her lungs with air, placing her head against the wood. Breathe. Emotion choked in her throat. When she closed her eyes, all she could see was Gideon’s mouth, as he traced down her naval and kissed into the silk of her night garments. She could still taste his mouth on hers as he whispered, I want you so bad.

And she had wanted him too.

She realised in that moment that she wasn’t going to stop. She was never going to stop, but he was. Hurt coiled in her gut at the rejection.

If Gideon had taken the opportunity, she would no longer fit into the maiden category in the witches’ cycle. The Maiden, the Virgin, the Mother, and the Crone. Was she ready to let someone take something from her that she could never get back?

She knew the answer was yes. She would have given herself to him. She would have let him kiss below the silk, she would have let him—

“That good, huh?” a deep, husky voice taunted.

Emara’s eyes snapped open, and she jerked her head off the wooden door.

“Completing the walk of shame? I didn’t have you down for that type of girl.” Torin Blacksteel stood in the corridor, leaning against the brick with his bulking shoulder, spinning a long, silver knife in the palm of his hands. One by one, he sent it back and forth through his fingers, letting the lethal blade roll over his knuckles.

Heat swarmed her face. “You don’t know what type of girl I am,” she sneered, crossing her arms over her body.

“Well, I think Gideon’s just found out.” His dark lashes lowered as his lip curled at the side, causing that infuriatingly cute dimple to appear.

“What I do with Gideon is none of your Goddamn business,” she scoffed. “You need to remember that!” She turned, ignoring the heat that now flushed down her neck.

“I know you didn’t do anything,” he called from behind. His voice was quick and snappy, like he didn’t want the conversation to be over.

Go straight to your room, the voice of her inner sense roared inside her head. Ignore him.

She whirled around.

Of course she wasn’t going to ignore him.

Emara strutted up so close to him, she could see his pupils dilate as she neared, but his strong chin pushed up boldly.

“You don’t know anything about what just happened.” The slow, sensual tone of her voice surprised her.

He repositioned his feet on the ground as he tightened his jaw, revealing a second dimple. “I know that if anything had happened, the wet patches on your silk nightwear would have had time to dry.” He looked at her through a fan of dark lashes. “It would have been lying on my bedroom floor for a long time.” He stood up straight, leaving the wall behind. “There would have been plenty of drying time.” His deep, ocean blue eyes fixed on her face, his nostrils flared. “Plus, I would never have let you leave my bedroom wearing that,” he said as he drank her in. He reached out and she gasped as he pulled up the strap of her top that had fallen from her shoulder again. His fingertips slid against her skin, all the way up her arm to her shoulder, and a charge of energy tingled where he touched. “I wouldn’t have let you leave, all fucking day.” He closed whatever distance was between them. “And I can assure you, you wouldn’t have wanted to, either, angel.”

With a sensual wink and a carnal smile, he was gone.

Emara stood in silence for what felt like an hour, unable to move or even breathe.

Finding her sanity, she cursed a million swear words under her breath and ran a hand through her hair frantically before heading to her own room—where she was safe from smouldering eyes, sensual smiles, and dangerous taunts.

Callyn Greymore stood back and contemplated what was going to be done next to Emara’s face. “Let’s try a red lip.”

She rummaged around her large, leather-bound case for the perfect colour to paint upon them. Cally had spent the good part of two hours turning Emara’s straight hair into beautiful waves that cascaded down her frame. Whilst doing that, Emara had filled her in about her morning with Gideon. She left out the odd encounter with Torin, though; she wasn’t even going to give that room in her mind to expand.

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