Page 40 of Feathers of Ash and Hope

Twelve

ARA

He doesn’t say a word.His gaze is intense as his eyes travel from my boots upward. Slowly, he catalogs every detail.

There is no way to miss the curve of my hip or how my body tapers at the waist, and while my breasts are wrapped so tightly they are nearly flat, the placement of said wrapped material is obvious, too. I’ve never felt this vulnerable before. My palms are sweaty, my heart races like it has to be somewhere else, and I fight to keep my breath even.

Finally, he stops at the braid winding around my head before his eyes meet mine. His stoic face doesn’t tell me anything.

I bite my lip to keep myself from blurting out nonsense. I want to cover myself, but I keep my hands by my side. He knows now. Nothing I can do will change that, and I refuse to show him how much his perusal affects me.

He keeps holding my gaze.

Why doesn’t he say something?

My back is to the dark forest behind us, and his body blocks mine from views from the camp.

At least no one else can see me.

Time stretches unbearably. I don’t want to be the one to break the silence, but if he doesn’t say something soon, I will. I wiggle the toes in my boots. I’m always a twitchy person, and this is nerve-wracking on more than one level.

He exhales.

“Didn't see that one coming,” he says. I feel my eyebrows jump up.

That’s it? That’s all he is going to say?

His eyes are already on the slash.

“A scratch, huh?” Kyronos shakes his head, his golden eyes flitting over my body again. “But I guess I know now why you didn't want anyone looking at it.” He takes in my rigid posture, and his face softens a bit before he sits down next to me.

“May I?” His voice is softer now, too. Our eyes lock while he waits for my answer. I nod.

Tate’s calloused hands tickle my skin with his light touch. I flinch.

“Sorry, I'll try to be more gentle,” he says, his eyes on the wound.

“Gods, no,” I blurt.

His gaze snaps up to my eyes, and he raises one brow. “You would prefer me being ... less gentle?” My cheeks heat. Shit, that doesn't sound right when he says it like that and brings up a whole lot of wrong ideas on my part. Does he have to be so ridiculously handsome?

“No, I mean … It's fine. I'm fine,” I stutter.

Kyronos's mouth twitches, but the smile is gone so fast I may have imagined it. His face relaxes, and he nods once while he goes on examining the cut as if I’m not making a total fool of myself. He selects a vial from the healing kit, and the familiarsmell alerts me seconds before the burn draws a soft gasp from my lips.

I try to look at anything but him, but my eyes always find their way back. He pushes my skin together, securing it with little sticky strips from the kit.

His fingers gently scrape over my skin, sending out electric sparks. I get goose bumps all over, and the way his gaze flits over my skin tells me he notices. Hopefully, he thinks it’s the cold causing this—not that I feel cold at the moment.

Ugh ... a hole in the ground would be nice. One that gobbles me up, like right now.Why can't he be less … just less?At least if he would make dumbass comments, I could give some snarky remarks back—dispel this tension. But noooo, instead the silence seems to make it worse. My body feels like a furnace, and tingles run over my skin wherever he touches me.

I hate my body right now for being so aware of him. It's like he’s the only thing registering with my senses—the sound of his breath, the heat of his body when he comes closer, his gaze, his touch. I swear my skin will erupt in flames any minute.

I clear my throat. “I'm just ticklish.”

He nods as if that is a reasonable explanation for my behavior, and thankfully, he starts to talk.

“Didn't reach the muscle tissue. This should be quick.” His voice is low, husky, and curls around my body like a caress. He places his fingers next to the cut, and a tingling warmth seeps from his fingers into my skin.

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