Page 62 of The Ballad of a Bard

It was on the edge of her mind, teetering and toppling and precariously balanced between sanity and insanity like the Imp. Perhaps they’d switched places. Her skin felt hot, clammy, too heavy to wear. She wanted to peel it off and dance in nothing. To be coated in stardust and moon pearl, to allow the midnight to wash over her. To let the candlelight, the chandelier glow, bask her in something incandescent.

It was the kind of daze that followed far too many cups of wine, the sort of trance after not enough sleep, the haze of finding something so attractive that it broke one’s heart.

Her head was heavy too, but in a different, heady way instead of a painful thrum. It swam and swirled and it was heaven.

But she couldn’t stop looking at him.

The way his skin gleamed with a honey glow, the way his hair was nearly pitch black, the way his mouth moved as he laughedat something one of the other Saints said. He clapped them on the shoulder, but she couldn’t tell who it was. She couldn’t see anything past him. And she didn’t want to.

Crimson stepped closer, her heelsclickingon the ivory and ebony squares below. Her fingers followed the line of his carved jaw, the way his neck bore lines that she wanted to touch, the muscles that corded in his wide set of shoulders.

“Ohh,” She breathed, softly, in a dream.

West looked down at her, an umber eyebrow raised in suspicion. He stopped talking with the other immortal, giving her his full attention and it was too much for her to handle.

Her hand quivered in the air as he asked, “Are you alright?”

Saints above, even his voice was pure sex.

It rippled off her arms like tantalising vibrations, slank down her tingling spine with feather light touches, skittered over every inch of her skin until she could stand it no more.

She wanted to dance withhim.

He was so unearthly beautiful, and it made her want toburn.It was a pounding sensation just inside her chest every time she caught a glimpse of him, a breathtaking draft as they interacted, touched. It was everything and it made her feel like nothing at the same time.

“Do something with me.” Her lashes fluttered, grazing her high cheek. Crimson was desperate for her power in that moment, to use it until he couldn’t stop looking at her.

In a different way, because the way he caught glimpses of her wasn’t the sort of attraction that she wanted, needed, craved from him at that moment. He told her that she was beautiful, yes, but she wanted him to look at her as if there was no one else in the world. She wanted him to look at her as if he wanted to devour her, and she wouldlethim.

“Like what?” He asked, crossing one arm over the other. He was splendid in the sunglow doublet that fit him as if it were a second skin. Blue may have been his colour, but he was a sparkling star in gold.

“Something. Anything.” Crimson almost begged him. She might have, if he didn’t. What she wouldn’t do for a mere brush of his fingers against hers, a puff of air against her thrumming neck, a dash of his lips against hers.

“That’s not an answer.”

Just touch me, hold me. Please.

“Yes it is.” Crimson caressed his sharp cheek, and he flinched from it. She didn’t back down, coming to stand even closer. They were inches apart now, if even. “We can dance, or take a stroll through the courtyard. We could go back up to the room and you could show me how to fight.”

She was going to shatter into a thousand pieces if he didn’t act soon. The heat in her low core was almost to the point where it was unbearable, to the point where she might break if he justlookedat her again.

“You already know how to fight. Or do I need to remind you,Lyric?” He took her wrists in his hands and removed them from his face. It wasn’t forceful, but it wasn’t tender either.

Crimson wasn’t entirely sure shewantedhim to be gentle with her. She wasn’t sure if she’d want it rough either, considering she’d never been with anyone in this way before. She’d never evenkissedanyone before. Her mind left her standing there as it kidnapped every sensible, rational piece of her and forced her into a daydream. Well, night-dream, considering what time it was in the evening, but still.

West, shoving her against her closest wall, sharing a breath with her as he came ever so close, until there was nothing betweenthem. As his mouth claimed hers and she felt renewed, reborn, redone. She imagined he kissed like a god, worshipping and melding and forging. She could imagine the way his calloused hands would cup her and palm her and own every inch of her.

ForSaints sake, she was going to burn alive.

She lost a breath, savouring the way it sent shivers throughout her. Her smile flipped however as he let go of her wrists, turning into a disapproving look.

No, no, no. Come back.

Why wouldn’t he let her touch him?

He was the one who invited her here, invited her into his room, his bed. Shared it with her for over a week now, and yet he made no move to touch her, taste her, take her. She let out an annoyed puff of air that had his mouth curving into a smirk.

A stupidly attractive smirk.

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