Page 56 of A Shattered Kingdom of Steel

He winks. “You can stand there and look delicious.”

Groaning, I roll my eyes, though his remark has heat dancing in my lower abdomen. “I’m serious. I have two perfectly good hands.”

“Oh, I’m very aware of that, Bladesinger,” he murmurs, that crystalline gaze falling to my hands. “I’d love to see the extent of what those beautiful hands can do.”

“If I didn’t know better,” I tell him, taking a step closer, “I’d say you actually want me to punch you.”

A wicked grin plays at his mouth. “Whatever could have given you that impression?”

Giving him an overly exaggerated scowl, I press my fist to his chest. His hand clasps over mine, gently holding my fist in place. I swallow, fighting the thrill that his touch sends pulsing through me.

“Next time, I won’t be so merciful,” I say, though my voice makes it seem as if my mind is elsewhere. In truth, my mind is elsewhere.

Asheros doesn’t move his hand from mine, diamond-irises locked on my own. “I’m counting on it.”

The intensity of his stare heats my skin, and I can’t seem to summon words.

At the sound of someone clearing their throat, Asheros and I step back. My head snaps in that direction, and Asheros tucks his arms into his sides.

“Apologies, Orim,” he says, as if nothing happened. How can his demeanor shift so quickly, while I’m struggling to compose myself? “What is it?”

“We’re about to eat,” Orim says, eyes flicking between us. “Would you two care to join us?”

“Already?” I ask.

Orim nods. “We’re finished making camp.”

I scan our surroundings to see the three tents constructed in a circular formation. It’s just like last time, except the campfire is missing because of the rain.

“How efficient,” I murmur to myself. Having been on the road for some time and making camp on a regular basis, Asheros’s companions no doubt learned to set up camp quickly, much like soldiers.

“So…” Orim’s voice trails off, amusement lifting the corners of his mouth. “Are you going to eat with us?”

“Of course,” Asheros replies coolly, without looking at me. “We’ll be just a moment.”

Orim dips his head in acknowledgment, then rejoins the others.

“I’m fine,” I tell Asheros, shaking what remains of my desire from my shoulders.

He cocks his head, arching a brow. “Are you?”

“I am.” Firmness gathers in my voice.

“Pity.” He leans forward, a dark haze seeping into his expression. “I rather enjoyed watching you begin to lose control.”

“How unfortunate for you,” I say, giving him my best attempt at smiling sweetly.

He holds my stare, mouth parted with amusement. “How unfortunate for me, indeed.”

“I’m going to eat before there’s no bread left for us.” I make a move to march ahead, pausing when he doesn’t follow. “Are you not hungry?”

“Oh, I’m starving, Bladesinger,” he says slowly, eyes dropping to my rear. “But bread won’t satisfy my craving.”

Heat flushes my cheeks, sparking the throbbing need in my core. Biting my bottom lip, I turn around knowing full well his eyes are still on me. A confidence like none I’ve experienced before thrums through me, and I stride toward the others, swaying my hips to a phantom melody.

Asheros grunts behind me, the sound betraying the effect I have on him.

It only fuels me, the power of it charging my senses. I reach the others gathered under the flap of Kheldryn and Gryska’s tent, where two hollowed logs are positioned across from each other as makeshift benches. Exaggerating the arch of my back, I bend over to sit beside Ronan. I flick my gaze to Asheros.

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