Page 63 of Cruelly Fated
His lips curved. “Neither are you.”
“I was working…” I said, traipsing along like I had no idea what to do with myself.
A sheet lay draped loosely around his waist. I blinked, trying not to imagine him fully naked.
“Oh, you’re reading?” I halted, pointing awkwardly at the book in his hands.
Kyon brandished the book. “I read…sometimes,” he said like he didn’t want to talk about it.
O-kay.
I stared at the cover, trying to make out the title, but my eyes wandered. Everywhere. Kyon’s body was a work of art. Light slid across the swell of his biceps, the planes of his chest. A faint shimmer danced along his collarbone, like something beneath his skin stirred and never quite settled.
My gaze dragged lower.
His skin rippled, gleaming with green scales just under the surface. His dragon. The image sent a jolt of panic and desire down my spine.
“Right. I’ll… I’m gonna go,” I muttered, gesturing vaguely toward his bedroom like I actually lived here and hadn’t just wandered into the middle of some impossible fairy tale.
He nodded once, his eyes narrowing and oozing heat as if the air wasn’t already thick enough to drown in.
I turned too fast and clipped my shoulder on the doorframe. Smooth. Warmth crawled up my neck and into my ears. I dropped my bag on the bed, his scent wrapping around me. Ember, spice, and wilderness. I whirled with a gasp, convinced he’d followed me in.
He hadn’t. Then how was his scent so potent here but not in the rest of the apartment? I groaned internally and plopped on the bed, staring at the half-open door. I wasn’t sure if I wantedto be alone…or if I wanted him to come in. Was he as confused as I was? At least he was still interested. Otherwise why hold the book upside down? He wasn’t reading, he was waiting…on me.
Twenty-Six
KYON
She’d left the door open.
And now I sat here, swathed by the city lights and paralyzed by indecision, staring at the last place her bare feet touched before she vanished into my bedroom.
Mine.
I exhaled through my nose, smoke curling toward the ceiling. The book balanced on my thigh, long forgotten and still upside down. At the time, reading seemed like a good excuseto be up. I might as well have written “I couldn’t sleep until you were here” on my forehead.
I leaned over slightly, catching her walking across the room. Her braid swung softly with every step. The scent of sweet, earthy peaches clung to the air. It stirred something deep in my chest.
She hadn’t closed the door.
The dragon stretched, scales shivering beneath my skin. It recognized her openness for what it was: an invitation.
My jaw ticked. I dragged a hand down my face, more roughly than necessary, like I could scrub the ache out of my skin. I wasn’t blind to the fact that to her everything I did was part of a deal. A temporary arrangement. But nothing about her had ever felt temporary. Not the way she looked at me. Not the way her illusion held me captive.
I leaned in more, elbows to knees, ignoring the tightness across my ribs, a remnant from the attack. I stared at that door like it was a gate to something I could never return from.
She’d seen the scales. I watched the moment her breath caught, the moment her stare lingered too long and her pulse tripped. She didn’t flinch. That alone cracked something in me I’d thought long dead.
I couldn’t go in there. Not yet.
Because once I crossed that line, there’d be no walking back. No pretending this was just a…deal.
She didn’t know what it meant to belong to a dragon. What it would cost her to be claimed by one.
To be claimed by me.
I rose, muscles tight with restrained energy, and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, needing the cold press of glass and stars. Below, Avari pulsed and glittered in the night—oblivious to the war inside me.
