After Cambion, Thoradin, Flumph, and Baron exit the room, I turn to Eilish. She really is the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. With Cambion’s illusions gone, her hair is once again a pale blonde, her skin returned to a near-translucent white. Even draped in her cloak, it’s impossible not to notice the subtle curves of her small frame. Her eyes shine, even in the absence of light, and her lips remain upturned, as though she’s amused by something, as though she knows something the rest of us don’t. It’s difficult to see her as powerful, even though I know she is.
“Do you need anything?” I ask her.
She yawns behind her hand. Even now, when her skin is pale and waxen, when the bags beneath her eyes give clues to the trials of her last few days, she’s stunning. I want to wrap her in my arms, shield her from anyone who would harm her. I want to taste the sweetness of her mouth and trace the lines of her perfect body. I don’t even notice my mind wandering until the tug between my legs alerts me to my excitement.
“Will you stay with me?” she asks again, her eyes hopeful. “I don’t want to be alone.”
I nod, and take my post on the bench resting at the foot of the bed.
“How’s your leg?” she asks.
When I glance down, I realize I haven’t felt the pain of my wound in over thirty minutes. The angry, red gash is now reduced to a white scar, which looks as though it’s been there for years. “It’s healed,” I answer.
She smiles before standing up, then leans over the bed to pull the blankets down.
“Do you plan to sleep on that bench?” she asks with a smirk.
I swallow. Hard. “Yes.”
“No,” she nearly interrupts and taps the bed beside her. “I wouldn’t have asked you to stay if I expected you to sleep there.”
I don’t make any motion to move closer to her.
“Dragan?” she asks, seemingly confused.
I clear my throat. “I can’t be that… close to you,” I say in a scratchy voice.
Her expression falls. “Why not?”
“Because…” Words fail me. I’m not certain how I’m supposed to tell her that being so close to her, I won’t be able to control myself. Fuck, I sound ridiculous. I’m a grown man, for Chrissakes.
“Why?” she repeats.
“Because…” I look away.
“Dragan?”
“Because I want you,” I admit as my eyes meet hers and I hold her gaze. Her eyes go wide, her expression one of surprise. “And, if I’m lying next to you, I won’t be able to control myself.”
I want to break this hold she has on me, but I realize I can’t. It’s impossible. I can’t even look away from her. My eyes, starved for rest, can’t leave her face. I take in the tendrils of hair that frame her delicate features, the soft rise and fall of her chest, and her skin, pearly in the dim room.
I want her. So badly.
I have to force myself to look away. I gaze instead into the fire, my back resting against one of the posts near the bed. I’m afraid of what she must think of me—that I’m some kind of pervert who can’t control himself. Which, I guess, is basically what I am when it comes to her.
I stare at the blaze for several moments, watching the shapes that flicker in and out of the flames.
“Dragan,” she whispers.
I look up to find her standing in front of me. She says nothing but reaches up to her cloak and unties it from aroundher neck. It falls to the ground. Surprise ricochets through me, because I’m not expecting this. I was expecting her to tell me to leave.
“What are you doing?” I ask. I can’t keep my eyes from following the motion of her hands as she reaches down, grips the dress right above her breasts and, in one fluid motion, pulls it down to her waist. Her large breasts bounce, and I stare at them. Unabashedly. Her nipples are hard, alert. My pants immediately begin to tighten as my cock strains against them.
“I want you just as much as you want me,” she says.
“Eilish,” I start and my body yells at me to stop stalling. I’m ready to take her. I’vebeenready. I want nothing more than to thrust myself into her tight wetness and lose myself inside her. “I won’t be able to control myself much longer.”
“I don’t want you to control yourself.”