Page 113 of What Lies Within Masks & Shadows

And Garrik was a perfect fantasy.

From the way his body moved … his seemingly perfect physique … and that V of muscles she couldn’t tear her eyes from…

He could bring any female to her knees.

Alora swallowed hard as blood rushed to her cheeks, ruthlessly pushing the thought away.

Alora watchedhim for almost two hours. Lunging, jumping, rolling in the dirt, only to use his massive legs to jolt him into the air and land back on his feet.

Garrik eventually sheathed both swords before scooping up his tunic.

He paused a moment to breathe, hand on his thigh as he closed his eyes and tilted silky gray hair to the stars.

Not long after, slowly, the torches were engulfed in Smokeshadows and snuffed out one by one as he slipped through the trees and thick brush. She paused a moment longer, not daring to make even the slightest sound—to not even breathe—cursing her own hammering heartbeat in fear that he might hear it and turn back.

She scanned, unable to see him anywhere by the light of the few remaining torches…

When a snap of a branch pierced the air behind her.

The sound of death in the form of metal slid across leather.

Alora turned…

Meeting the kiss of a blade pinching her neck.

“Thought you would go for another stroll, clever girl?”

She froze, working her throat against the bite of the blade.

That cut of Garrik’s dark voice brushed her like a damning blow. Ruthlessly pebbling uncontrollable tremors and shivers down her body as his head glided from the darkness into the torch light. The alluring face of Elysian’s gray-haired demon, completely covered by Smokeshadows cascading off his shoulders as if a mocking warning from the stars, was so close.

Too close.

Garrik’s mouth twisted, brightening the amused hunger in his eyes like a predator who had caught his prey in a game that only he could win. She could smell the scent of vanilla and oak from his lips and the alluring aroma of lemon, rose, and lavender breezing from his hair.

“Maybe I should double your guard. But then again, it would not make for such.” He paused, biting his bottom lip. “Pleasurableinterruptions to my night.” Ravenous eyes rakedover her pressed against the tree, looking as if he would revel in finishing his kill.

She met his stare, unafraid—unyielding—and with a sharp wince, pushed against the blade; the pinch of the sharpened steel produced a slow trickle of blood down her neck.

“Prick.” Her eyes lit with embers.

Garrik breathed a haunting chuckle and leaned in until his lips almost touched hers. “Hiding in the shadows.” He paused to let out a low grumble that she couldfeelagainst her flesh. “Careful. You should know by now that you cannot hide from me. Especially with them watching.” Shadows swirled around him in whorls. They cascaded from his shoulders, tendriled down around his torso and arms. They weremadeto belong to him.

Then he stared at her. Not with eyes that promised painful death, but the silver glow glistened in feral excitement as he held the blade there.

He was absolutely sinful to look at.

And she hated herself for admitting it.

Had she truly forgotten what it felt like to have a male so close? To have Death so close and it not wrack her in a panic to run? It was hard to deny, after years of loneliness, years of mistreatment and manipulation, there were days where she entertained thoughts that somewhere, maybe someday, someone would desire her the way she wished.

This isn’t desire though … right?She pushed the thought away. Flirtation at best. How could desire be a blade and darkness mixed with gray hair and silver eyes in an amber glow? He could snap her neck in an instant for disobeying his orders. Instead, he stood with silver eyes glowing and searching hers.

Though she tried not to tremble, the sapphire in her traitorous eyes couldn’t fight against it and raked down his body.

She became painfully aware of every breath. Every vein and muscle on his exposed skin. His powerful arms and sharp jawline. How the flickering amber glow of the remaining torches created dancing shadows across the raised ridges of his scars and fell upon the mystifying, V-cut muscles that extended below his waistline. How that muscle in his cheek feathered the more he gritted his teeth when she pushed back against his blade.

Why does he have to look so starsdamned beautiful?

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