Page 72 of Claws of Death

Why is my pulse racing? This is my mate. I’ve seen him naked before. Why can’t I form a clear thought at the sight of droplets of water running down the grooves of his abdomen, vanishing in the soft material of the towel covering his?—

My lower lip cracks open where I’m biting into it, and I’m not proud to say I taste blood before the day has properly started.

Myron’s eyes scan my face, cautious amusement dancing behind the collected expression he’s pulled up. He runs his fingers through his hair, sending a fresh assault of water dripping down his chest, and I need to take a deep breath to clear my head. If only the air wasn’t Myron-scented.

“I’ll just put on some clothes.”

I’m about to turn on my heels and walk out the door when he gestures to the bed. “I’d offer you a chair, but the one at the desk is broken.”

He wants me tostay. Sheepishly, my eyes dart to said chair, confirming that one of the legs is missing, before continuing to the bed.

“Do you think it’s…” I clear my throat as my voice fails me. “Do you think it’s a good idea for me to be in here while you?—”

“We’ve been mated for a while, Ayna. Our current …situation… doesn’t change anything.” He pauses, arm already reaching for the shirt hanging on the doorknob. “Not in that regard, at least. I have nothing to hide from you. Body or soul.”

He grabs the shirt, sliding one arm into the black fabric, then the other, and then pulls it over his head. Myfingers ache to peel away the wet strands of hair sticking to the side of his face. I sit on the bed, shoving my hands under my thighs.

In my shoulder, a stinging pain is informing me the numbness is lifting further, and I can’t help but flinch, biting harder into my lip as the sensation spreads all the way to my neck.

Myron is in front of me so fast I nearly shy away. Nearly—but he places his hands on my thighs in a silent plea to stay where I am as he kneels in front of me, eyes alive like the ocean in a storm. “What is it?”

Had I been braver, I might have reached for his face and brushed those stubborn strands of hair away after all, but staring at him is all I can do. Taking in the warmth of his palms as they continue to rest on my thighs is all I can do.

The scent of wind and pine and the winds blowing along the coasts of Eherea fills the space between us, and Myron keeps waiting for my response.

I don’t have one because the pain in my shoulder is already fading, tuned out by the nearness of the male who knows how to make me forget my own name.

The shimmer of light inside my chest is pulsing once, twice, throbbing against my ribs like a heartbeat of its own, and I remember to breathe.

“Nothing,” I whisper, my left hand finding its path into his hair, fingers tangling with the drying waves. Myron’s eyes close, nostrils flaring as he scents me, the tip of his nose grazing the inside of my forearm. His brows and lashes are dark as night, stark shadows painting the angles of his face, andthe top buttons of his shirt are still open. It would be easy to slide my hand down his neck, under the fabric…

“I miss you, Ayna.” His words aren’t more than a breath, a sigh as my fingertips wander to the nape of his neck, but his hands remain firmly planted on my thighs, fingers curling into my flesh as if to hold themselves in place.

Leaning into my touch, he tilts back his head, lips parting with a low moan that shoots through my veins like a flare of fire. A drop of water is resting above the side of his lip, daring me to kiss it away. He doesn’t flinch when I trace the outlines of his face with my index finger, leaving my other hand tangled at the back of his neck, doesn’t move his hands even an inch. His breath stutters from his mouth in hot gusts, heart thumping so loud even I can hear it.

There are no questions, no expectations. All he does is relish what I’m willing to give, drinking in my touch, inhaling my scent.

I could watch forever the way his brows draw together the slightest bit when my finger glides along the edge of his jaw, the way his tongue flicks over his upper lip when I reach the crest of his chin, lingering there. I could stare at him all day, forgetting that we have a purpose or a mission.

Trust Royad to remind us as he stumbles in through the still-open door and stops with a cough.

I pull my hands back so fast I could swear I tear a few hairs from Myron’s scalp.

He doesn’t move.

“I thought a king knelt before no one,” Royad says, leaning into the doorframe and tapping a finger on the wood.

Myron’s eyes blink open like stars coming to life in the falling night, his gaze finding mine and lingering. “Before no one but my fate.”

Fate,notmate.I’m sure I heard him right.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but it’s almost time to go.” Royad sounds as awkward as I’m supposed to feel, but Myron’s gaze has captured me, and I’m no longer part of this universe. I’m part of his.

“Then get the fuck out of here until it’s actually time to leave.” Myron’s growl reverberates through the room, through my bones, like a command, and the heat shooting up my thighs is no longer just the one his skin emanates where his palms linger.

Royad disappears so fast I almost miss him grumbling, “Better not let Recienne wait.” And he shuts the door behind him.

“We should really be going,” Myron says, making no move to actually follow his own advice. “I don’t care if we let Recienne wait a year and then some, but you need to manage shifting before I’ll allow him to throw you into the skies.”

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