Page 37 of A House of Cloaks & Daggers

It felt like a long time passed before we slowed to a walk, and Wren hauled me into a sitting position so that I didn’t become ill. My back pressed into his chest, trembling shoulder blades against granite-carved pectorals, and his arms encircled me as he reached around to regain his grip on the horse’s mane.

“I warned you that they don’t like to be watched,” he scolded me at last. The vibrations of his voice sent a shudder rippling straight through my body, easing the tightness in my chest from wrestling the sickness in my gut. “Why don’t you ever believe me?”

The question was posed so innocently. It was as if he truly didn’t understand and genuinely wanted to know the answer.

For a moment, as I sat rigidly in front of him, trying to avoid touching him without falling off his unicorn, I almost didn’t recognise his voice. Without the cocky grin across his sultry mouth or the devious glint in his burning eyes, he was less the broody High Fae bastard and more…

Not human. Not in the slightest.

But something closer to it.

“Fine,” he snapped, after minutes passed and I had not replied. “Do as you like, Aura, but at the very least, you should stop sitting there like you’ve been petrified. We’re cominginto friendlier townships soon, and I’d rather not have people gossiping about us.”

I leaned forward, bracing my hands on Elera’s neck and clenching my legs around her flank, and relaxed my shoulders. My breath started to come easier. The furious knot in my stomach was mostly untangled. But she snorted in response and shook her large head, the motion rippling throughout the rest of her body in a way that made me realise she could shake me off quite easily if she so desired.

“Not like that,” Wren growled, letting go of her mane to grab my hands.

He pulled me upright, straightening my posture with a hand over my shoulder and two fingers digging into the base of my spine, and then reached around to grip my thighs. My breath came in gasps as his palms slid over me, the fabric of my jeans not rough or thick enough to intercept the sensation that came over my skin. It danced out of my reach as I sent a mental net down to capture it before it expanded, the warm flow of awareness lighting up every last one of my nerves.

A pathetic human response. I cursed myself for it.

Wren gently spread my legs wider, and mortification stained my cheeks as they started shaking ever so slightly.

I focussed on my perceived loss of control over my balance. The fear of falling. Anything but his touch.

He slid his hands beneath my thighs, and my breath caught in my throat. I held it there as he pulled my legs up until my feet flattened and heels came down slightly, and then he brought my knees back to the horse’s sides with gentle pressure.

I tried—and failed—to release the breath.

Slowly, he began to drag his knuckles up and down my thighs like he was kneading the tension out of my muscles. He leaned down, warm and soft against my hair. “Relax,” he purred into my ear.

I swallowed a thick gulp of saliva and exhaled.

Releasing my legs, he brought his hands to my face and combed back my hair until it was no longer windswept across my eyes and mouth. He threaded his fingers through it once—and I could not fight the shiver that ricocheted from the nape of my neck, could not convince myself the sensation was made of anything other than sheer, unbridled pleasure—before flipping it over one shoulder, and then he bent forward to take hold of Elera’s mane again.

He’d made no comment, given no inclination that he had felt what I had—that he’d even intended to make me feel that way. He’d only corrected my position on the horse.

But his knuckles turned white.

“Let her movements guide you,” he instructed quietly. “Move with her, not against her, and hold your posture. Don’t inch away from me, or you’ll go too far forward—and, for the love of the Oracle,relax. I’ve done far more exciting things with women than sharing myhorsewith them.”

I nodded, chewing on my lower lip. The impact of his words was softened considerably by the heady fog still clouding my mind. With his breath tickling my neck and his body pressed into mine, his intoxicating cologne was weaving into the very fibres of my clothing, inescapable and so resolutely calming.

Too calming.

I had to fight off the tension growing in my muscles, struggling to find a balance between keeping my guard up and yielding total and complete control of my every sense and desire to the man with his elbows brushing against my sides.

“Can I put my arms around you?” he murmured, angling his head towards the side of my face not concealed by my hair.

Blush spilled over my cheeks again, and my voice was shaky when I returned with, “I don’t know.Canyou?”

His low, rumbling laughter sent pinpricks of arousal skittering across my entire nervous system. With a sharp intake of breath, I silently scolded my pathetically human body for its reaction to Wren’s pathetically intoxicating presence.

“Hold onto her mane.” The tip of his nose brushed my temple as he lifted his head. “She knows where to go, so you don’t have to do anything, but it’s proper form for the rider in front to hold the reins.”

There was no opportunity for me to object.

Wren promptly released Elera’s dark silver mane, and I panicked, scrambling to grab hold of it as if we were driving a car and he had let go of the steering wheel. Elera snorted again, rather haughtily for a unicorn-horse.

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