Page 70 of Wolf Caged
After my visit to Ereborne, Saphira was a breath of fresh air, lifting some of the weight from my shoulders as she silently worked to carry out my order, her focus on her task as she tackled unfamiliar fastenings.
I knew that I shouldn’t, that this female was not meant for me, not in this way, but I found myself pressing closer still and lowering my head. She discarded the first pauldron with a harsh clatter of metal on stone, making her irritation clear as she treated my armour with contempt, and then leaned to reach for the second one, exposing her neck.
My lips hovered tantalisingly close to her skin as I leaned in and breathed in her scent, holding it in my lungs. It was enticing, filling every inch of me with warmth, and I frowned as I scented her again, coming close to brushing my nose against her warm skin as I fought to decipher why she smelled so enticing.
“What are you doing?” Her voice trembled and I realised she had stilled, her hands resting on my shoulder as I breathed her in.
“You smell of green pastures and sunshine, of rolling hills and endless blue skies.” My voice had never sounded so thick, so strained, as it did as I murmured those words, struggling to convey the scent of her.
She laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”
She was trying to brush off my words, attempting to let them run off her back and not affect her, but shewasaffected. I could feel it in the air and smell it on her. As she tackled my other pauldron, I lifted my hand and lightly traced a line down the curve of her neck, eliciting another delicious tremble. My fingers drifted lower as I savoured the softness of her skin, tracing the edge of her blouse.
She swatted my hand away. “Stop that. I’m undressing you as ordered. I didn’t say you could do the same to me.”
She threw my second pauldron and stepped back, stealing her warmth and closeness from me, and my shadows grew restless with a need to pull her back to me, to press her so close that there was no air between us. I reined in that urge as shefumbled with my breastplate, her hands shaking now as they tugged at the straps on my left side.
How would she react when the black plates fell away to reveal my body?
Would she be as bold as she had been at the lake, drinking her fill of me?
“Wolves have sensitive noses,” I said as a way of distracting her from what she was doing so she would not stop, and satisfying my own curiosity. “What do I smell like to you?”
She froze halfway through unbuckling the final strap on my left side, her eyes sliding to meet mine, a flicker of banked heat in them.
Bewitching.
“You reek of sweat and leather, a hint of sulphur and the horrible tang of magic.”
A laugh rumbled in my chest as she hit me with her crushing description of my scent, far from the more floral and poetic one I had expected.
“It was a long ride from Ereborne.” I watched her as she finished with the strap and then I took hold of my breastplate, lifting it up and over my head. I leaned to my left to set it down.
Her gaze leaped to my bare chest and then away the moment I looked at her again.
I straightened and gestured to my lower half. “Continue.”
“You know, if you’re naked under there too, it won’t bother me. You’ll be bitterly disappointed when I don’t react to this little game of yours.” She attacked the straps at my hips with renewed spirit, yanking them so hard she jerked my hip forward.
Another chuckle escaped me, a sound I had almost come to miss in the last few days during my visit to the high king.
“You will react, little lamb,” I purred close to her ear, savouring how she stiffened and her fingers stilled close to my skin, almost touching me. Unbearable. I wanted her hands onmy flesh. I lifted my hand and brushed the backs of my fingers down her cheek. “Rose will kiss these cheeks, and fire will light your eyes, and you will fight it as you always do. Why fight against what you want, little lamb?”
“You’re quite the egotistical male, my king.” She mocked me with a curtsy. “But of course, how could I resist you? I’m sure the ladies at Ereborne, wherever that is, fawned over you, so surely I must too.”
“Is my little lamb jealous of the attention I receive?” I feathered my fingers lower, drifting them beneath her chin, and gently took hold of it when she refused to look at me, her gaze pinned to my chest. I pinched her chin between my thumb and forefinger, and lifted it, holding her facing me until she found the courage to meet my gaze.
“No.” A simple answer that was part truth, part lie. She did not want to desire my attention, railed against it with all she had, but some secret part of her enjoyed these moments we shared.
Enjoyed being the centre of my attention.
I lowered my head, pressing my cheek close to hers, and whispered into the shell of her ear.
“If you want my company, Saphira, you only need to ask.”
She tensed, but she didn’t push me away or lash at me with words. She remained where she was, our skin touching, the contact between us electric despite its innocence.
“I lied,” she murmured and I was the one who tensed now, sure she was going to admit that she did want me, that she would finally break and beg me to take her. “You don’t reek of sweat and all that other stuff.”
