Page 32 of Gifted Destiny

“What do you propose?” My interest isn’t only for me. I can’t help but notice how cramped he is in the wheeled chair. His knees are nearly chest level.

“Can you put your back against the headboard … or lie down? I can stand for this side, and I’ll kneel on the bed to do that side.”

His words make perfect sense, but my pulse skips a beat as I imagine him kneeling on the bed near my legs. I begin to think of Avery in a similar position before I slam the door shut on the thought. His supernatural sense of smell is more than a little irritating.

I don’t move immediately and he interprets my stillness as wariness. “I promise that my touch will remain professional, Zosia.”

Rearranging myself on the bed distracts me from the specificity of his vow. He hadn’t promised to keep his gaze or his thoughts professional. I prop multiple pillows behind me so that I’m not necessarily sitting or lying flat. I sigh with pleasure when my arms and neck are released from their strain.

“Thank you. I hadn’t even realized I was uncomfortable.”

Garrett doesn’t respond. When I turn, he’s staring at me. I hadn’t bothered to move the blanket with me, and the shorts the library provides are skimpy. They’re little more than a pair of female boxer briefs. My cheeks are on fire as I reach for the blanket. His hand catches mine.

“You can cover yourself if it will make you more comfortable, but don’t do it for any other reason.”

His words are so unexpected that my hand unclenches on the blanket as I consider why I feel the need to hide. I’m not cold, so there’s no need for warmth. The essential parts are covered, so I’m not feeling indecent or immodest. Habit and fear are what remain. I’m used to covering up, and I’m scared he’ll judge me – not just my injuries but my body too. No matter how much I search his face, though, I don’t sense any hint of criticism, distaste, or aversion.

I swallow hard and relinquish my grip on the blanket before reclining again.

“Thank you,” he whispers hoarsely before rising from the chair.

His words echo in my mind as he coats his fingers with the salve and begins with my lower calf. Why would he thank me? It’s not as if my body is a gorgeous spectacle. Is it because the act indicates trust? Since I can’t confirm anything, I choose to let it go.

With methodical and thorough skill, Garrett massages the salve into my tight muscles. The tingle from the healing herbs and the pressure of his fingers melt my pain and thoughts away.After working my tight calf muscle, he descends to my foot. It feels so good that I don’t spare a worry for the horrid deformity of my right foot.

He moves upward once my foot feels lighter than air and pleasantly separated from my body. When his touch ventures past my knee, I peek at him through slit eyelids. The kneading pressure remains steady, but something shifts. A muscle ticks in his jaw and his pulse flutters faster in his neck. His gaze occasionally strays toward my upper thighs and the juncture of my legs.

Languid desire makes my breath hitch when his tongue darts out to lick his lips. Before he continues further, however, he gently sets my leg on the bed. His hands never leave my skin, one of them stroking down the limb he just massaged as he maneuvers into a kneeling position on my other side. The bed dips with his weight, but the mattress is firm enough that I don’t roll toward him.

Armed with more salve, he begins again. The firm pressure, medicinal herbs, and my exhaustion soon lull me into a state of content pleasure. As I sink further into my pile of pillows, an occasional moan sneaks past my lips.

A shift in the air alerts me when his hand reaches the bottom of my left thigh. I force my eyelids open and notice that his body is stiffer and his breaths are shallow. Unaware that I’m watching him, his gaze is hungry when it centers on my hips, upper thighs, and crotch. The banked fire in my lower abdomen flares, and my next moan carries a husky sensuality.

I’m dumbfounded that my most hated body parts elicit desire in him. However, the evidence is clearly written on his face and body, and my sphinx’s sense of smell confirms it. The realization shifts from shocking to empowering.

The sound of his throat clearing pierces my foggy awareness. “I need to stop here or I’ll break my promise.” His words aremeasured and controlled, but his fingers twitch. One of his hands splays across my thigh, covering an impressive amount of skin.

I want to ask him to massage higher. I want to feel the promise of his desire, not his professionalism, but a forceful yawn steals my breath when I open my mouth. Within seconds, another follows.

“Damn,” I pout. “I want … but too tired.”

His chuckle is sweet and sensuous. “Next time, kitten. I want you fully awake for that wanting.” His words sound like a promise as he carefully removes a few pillows and pulls the blankets up to cover my body. Each touch is tender and sweet despite his size and gruff nature. After he arranges my bedding, his lips graze my cheek.

“Next time,” I whisper as my eyes drift shut. For the first time in memory, pain, fear, and worry don’t prevent me from falling asleep immediately.

Chapter 17

Bren

Ihave promised to forfeit my life in a magically binding oath twice in seven days. This might be considered a disturbing trend, but I don’t regret anything. Both contracts offer me the possibility to stay at the library with Zosia and my fellow guardians.

My brother and I have always been close, but the other two guardians played important roles in my visions as well. They are important to Zosia, but I also enjoy their company – which is rare for me. Kodi’s dry humor is entertaining, and Avery’s single-minded devotion to the library is inspiring. His intelligence offers keen insight into any battle, regardless of his visual differences.

I should be exhausted, but I’m not. My body continues to thrum with the increased adrenaline from my magical outburst. The explosions always culminate in this frenetic energy or a state of lethargy and melancholy.

When Zosia finally relents to Garrett’s requests, I decide to wander among the stacks and peruse helpful books. If I didn’t find my brother’s game so adorable, I’d reveal his subterfuge. While it’s true that he’s always expressed an interest in physicaltherapy, I’ve never known him to be interested in an injury that isn’t sports-related.

His play-acting is probably an excuse to get to know her without everyone listening in, but I can’t blame him for the minor deception. Our sphinx is remarkably dissimilar from the women in our usual circles. Her lack of interest in his wealth and status probably throws him off, and he probably finds her honesty intimidating or refreshing.

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