Page 67 of Unveil
Orion’s head turns toward me, and my pulse races. Despite how wrong the reaction is, my inner muscles flutter at his closeness to the apex of my thighs. With my hurt leg stretched out and the other bent, his lips ghost dangerously over my covered sex. The thin T-shirt I borrowed and my panties do nothing to block his heavy, sleepy breaths coasting through the fabric.
I bite my lip, then after a few more of his deep breaths, I stroke his hair again, trying not to think about the desire tugging my core. I stay like that for a long time, long enough for the forbidden ache to settle and for my legs to go numb beneath him. But I can’t bring myself to move.
“You’re… here…” he mutters, words carrying nothing but relief.
I swallow, my gaze dragging from the fire and down to him.
“I’m here.”
He squeezes me, tightening his hold on my wrist too. The FURY tattooed across his scarred knuckles shifts with the motion. Those marks should terrify me, the same way the skeleton ballerina inked on his ribs should. But they don’t.
Instead, my gaze traces the letters like answers lie somewhere between the scars, as if they’ll explain why I’m soothing the man intent on forcing me to marry him, all because I couldn’t stand him suffering in his dreams.
“What am I going to do with you, Orion Fury,” I whisper, echoing his own words.
I don’t expect an answer, but after thunder rumbles and fire crackles, his deep voice pleads softly.
“Stay with me.”
My pulse stutters. My hand stills in his hair. I swallow, not really sure what I’m doing until I’ve slipped my wrist from his grasp. His grip tenses before letting go, and I lace my fingers with his, holding his tortured palm. Leaning back against the door, I find way too much peace in the way the muscles relax in his jaw and around his eyes.
Then I tell the truth.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Maybe that’s because he’s trapped me, or maybe because he’ll catch me if I run.
But then there’s that other possibility. The one sneaking into every doubt cracking my resolve, growing bolder.
After everything my stalker in black has done to steal me, to keep me, the dumb jokes, the way he takes my insults with a grin, the adrenaline of all we’ve been through… how he saved me…
Maybe Iwantto stay.
Just yesterday, I was so sure I hated him.
But after tonight, I’m not sure what I feel.
She slept in my arms last night. Half-conscious, I thought her soft voice, her fingers combing through my hair, and her hand in mine had to be my imagination’s escape from another night terror. There’s no way a moment from my wildest dreams could be real.
But it was. Luna comforting me was as real as the stunning goddess in front of me now, bathing in a spring-fed pond. The waterfall feeding it tumbles down from a dizzying height. The fact that we endured that drop together makes me queasy, especially knowing we barreled over Cove Falls first, which is at least twice as high. Despite the odds, we survived, and this waterfall has delivered enough wayward trout for proper meals.
The rain’s let up for now. Mist kisses my skin, leaving droplets in its wake. Far-off rumblings warn the storm isn’t done, and the ground is still slick and unstable, a recipe for disaster with Luna’s injury. We’re stuck. Not that I’m complaining at this particular moment.
So I sit on the bank, switching between making sure the crossbow won’t jam at the wrong moment and scanning thewoods like a hawk. The forest’s eyes watch back, encroaching on this moment between us. But all I can really focus on is the memory of her warmth around me.
Her Carolina jasmine and honey scent, heady at the apex of her thighs, the softness of her skin… Fuck. In my dream, I wanted to pull her panties aside and taste her again. My mouth still waters thinking about it. I’d have made sure she loved it, just like she did in the dressing room. Resting on her thigh, I felt the frantic pulse there against my ear. I have no doubt she wanted it too—or, at the very least, I had an effect on her being that close. She knows exactly what the man she hates can give her.
But now the lust is mixed with confusion, and I’ve racked my brain all morning with one question.
Why did she stay?
My crossbow was only a few feet away when I woke up, a mistake if I’ve ever made one. Had I trusted her that much to leave it lying out? Or was I so exhausted I forgot she’s a threat? Hell, she could’ve emptied every dart left from my quiver into my heart and ended her captor once and for all. And yet, she didn’t.
Was it the storm that kept her with me? Her ankle? The threat of my traps?
But no, none of that accounts for why she’d let me cuddle her waist, why our fingers were intertwined like we needed each other, or why her palm cradled my head like I was something fragile.
My heart was near full to bursting, but I got up before she could push me away. The rejection would’ve been a crack in my sternum I’m not sure I could’ve stitched back up. So instead, I carried her back to the cot, raised her sprained ankle on more blankets, and let her sleep while I went out to clear more trail.
