Page 120 of A Serenade To The Elf Queen
The scent envelops me, something of a mix between the cold woods at dawn and a frozen lake. It’s so peaceful, unlike the person who owns it. A violent storm rages in him, one that will only wreck devastation in its wake.
I place the shirt on one of the fluffy white pillows so it’s easier to hug. It feels a little silly and downright irrational. I nuzzle it to my heart’s content until I’m drunk with his scent. This pull I have for him is strange and a little frustrating.
As if my thoughts summon him, Svenn appears, his robust frame filling the doorway. The tent instantly feels smaller when he enters.
He doesn’t greet me. I don’t bother saying anything to him either. The silence stretches between us, slowly grating on my consciousness like knives.
He doesn’t want you;I remind myself.
Not in his heart or in his bed. I should keep my interactions with him to the bare minimum. He is wearing nothing but the black breeches, molded to his long, muscular legs. The male doesn’t care for modesty as he settles on the chair at the small dining table to read a grimoire.
I shouldn’t look.
But my eyes stray to the dark temptation anyway. Every dip and plane of muscles on his defined abdomen is unreal. Svenn is like a timeless work of art that deserves to be admired for centuries to come.
His head slowly turns to me.
I quickly avert my eyes a little too late.
“Did you sleep well?” I ask him. My voice is a little too flustered and nervous.
He responds with a shake of his head. “Not at all. You?”
I’m so startled by the sound of his voice that I simply nod at him.
He gives me a dark smile that sets my heart racing. I don’t return it. The wound of his words is still fresh for me. It cuts deep because he’s the only person I’ve ever told those dreams to. He ripped them apart like tearing through the fragile wings of a butterfly. I’ve said some horrible things too. But I’ve apologized for my part at least.
I look around for any bruises on my skin. It would be embarrassing if I had one of my nightmares with him here.
“If you’re done with whatever it is you’re doing to my shirt, I’d like to have it back,” he says, running a hand over his hair.
My cheeks burn with heat. “I wasn’t doing anything weird.”
His eyes flicker to the pillow beside me.
“Sure,” he says carelessly.
This evil, evil man.
I’ll throw the stupid tunic at his head. I stumble off the bed for a better aim. Crippling pain shoots straight to my spine the moment I set my foot down.
My lame leg picks the best time to fail. Strong arms envelop me before I hit the floor. Svenn scoops me into his embrace in a heartbeat.
“No, I don’t want this,” I say desperately. The cramp is excruciating, but this is pathetic. Not after yesterday.
“Nel,” he grunts over my struggle.
“Let me go!” I pound my fist on his hard chest uselessly.
My body is such a little traitor. For all my hate, I can’t deny that I like this touch, this closeness. It makes me happy, sad, and angry at the same time.
“Hold still,” he says, placing me on the chair. He kneels in front of me to check for my injury. I am suddenly aware of how soft and small I am compared to his hard muscles and broad shoulders.
As much as I’m enjoying this, I know Svenn doesn’t want it. The strange link between us has to be painful for him because I’m the curse bearer. I wish there was a way to sever this connection instantly.
“I’m trying to help. Please,” he pleads.
His grip on my leg is firm but not strong enough to keep me. If I truly want to slip away from him, I can. I stare up at him silently. His eyes hold my gaze, earnest and sincere in their gleam. He does seem less infuriating when he’s settled in between my thighs.
