Page 92 of Trials of Dusk and Dreams
“Willow?”
“Yes, Bodin?”
“You need to remove your hand from my pants.”
“Am I making you uncomfortable?”
I detect a note of challenge in her voice.
The air between us is electric, charged with tension and unspoken desire. Every breath, every twitch, sends sparks into my body. I’m caught between the instinct to protect her and the overwhelming fear of hurting her.
“If you don’t,” I growl, fighting for control, “I might do something we both regret.”
“Like what?”
“Always testing, aren’t you?”
“Questioning, I think you mean.”
I huff, almost laughing. Shaking my head, I count the striations in the wooden doorframe above her and remind myself of my duty. Protect. Don’t destroy.
She slips her hand from my pants, but relief doesn’t come. We’re too close to escape the heat, the awareness prickling my skin.
“When the castle finishes,” I say through gritted teeth, “I’ll take you to your room.”
“You mean Fox’s room?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t—” she begins, then stops.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
I drop a hand to her chin, lifting her eyes to mine. “Finish your sentence.”
“I don’t want to be alone,” she admits, golden eyes flashing.
My grip tights before I catch myself and let go.
“The wildling can sleep with you,” I offer, returning my gaze upward.
“No,” she replies. “No, thank you.”
“No?”
“I want it to be you. I’ll feel safer.”
I arch an eyebrow, doubting her reasons. But before I can challenge her, she gasps.
“The baby Hunt!” she cries. “What if the castle?—”
“The little beastie is fine,” I grumble. “It has a knack for getting out of tight spaces.”
“You sure?”
“As sure as the sun comes up in the morning.”
