What Lies Beyond the Veil (Of Flesh & Bone, #1)(70)
The bastard smirked as if he knew it, too.
“You know how a newborn fawn has to learn to walk on new legs?” he asked, his lips curving into a smile despite the tension thrumming between us.
I gasped, staring at him in shock. “Did you just compare me to something that’s never walked before?”
“It isn’t an exact metaphor, but it’s similar. Your body is different than it was before. You move more swiftly, come upon obstacles quicker. Your reflexes need to catch up and work more efficiently now.”
“First, I have the sense of direction of a hydra and now I walk like a stumbling newborn deer. You truly know how to compliment the woman you’re trying to bed, Caelum the Marked,” I said, shaking my head as a disbelieving smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. The humor dancing in his eyes couldn’t be denied, something contagious passing between us as I tried to fight off the desire to return it.
“Tell me which part wasn’t true, and I will gladly rectify it, Estrella the Star,” he said, raising a brow as he waited for me to argue. I wanted nothing more than to prove him wrong, but knew well enough that I’d be lost within a moment of wandering on my own, and my swollen ankle made it impossible to argue my ability to function on my own two legs. “The silence is positively deafening,” he said, his face breaking into a full-blown smile.
“Do shut up. We can’t all be perfect men who know how to navigate and fight and walk flawlessly,” I said, biting my tongue before I could tell him something about the way his trousers hugged his ass and hips as he moved.
“You’re perfect just as you are, Little One, stumbling on awkward legs and horrible sense of direction included. I could spend the rest of the night telling you about all the parts of you that I would never allow anyone to change,” he said, his voice dropping to a low rumble as he spoke the words. That tension throbbed between us once more, all brevity of the moment lost to the spark of energy. “But I don’t think you’re ready for that just yet. One day, I’ll whisper it against your skin as I explore every piece of you with my mouth.”
“And what would you do if I returned the favor?” I asked, my voice breathless. It felt like baiting a tiger, playing games with a predator as those dark eyes deepened to the blackest of night skies.
“Memorize the way the words felt when your lips moved against me. Control myself as long as possible before rolling you beneath me and sinking inside of you,” he said, his voice deep and carefully controlled. As if he knew that in spite of my words and the way I’d walked him into the conversation, he was one wrong word away from sending me scurrying backward in discomfort with how much I wanted that.
I cleared my throat, tearing my eyes away from his and shifting my attention back to my ankle, breaking the moment between us before I could do something I might regret.
“Where did you learn about poultices like this?” I asked, making conversation to stifle the awkwardness I felt over his proximity. He leaned forward toward the place where he’d lifted my dress and pushed my leggings up my legs, lingering over the spot where he stroked my calf and shin with smooth caresses.
“My father’s personal library,” he said, confirming the suspicions I’d had not long before. “He had all manner of book there, most of them very forbidden and worthy of a death sentence if he was ever discovered.”
“You miss him. It comes through every time you speak of him,” I said, picking up on the melancholy note, and the way he always turned his gaze to the side and never looked me in the eye when speaking of his father. His attention shifted back, a sad smile gracing his lips as he finally met my stare.
“I miss the idea of him. I miss what we could have been if circumstances had been different,” he admitted.
“You mean if your stepmother hadn’t been…” I trailed off, not wanting to put words in his mouth. The details he’d provided of her had been so sparing, so vague that I couldn’t form a realistic picture of the woman who’d helped raise him.
“Cruel? Yes. If she hadn’t been so evil, I believe my father would have made the sacrifices necessary to be with my mother. Who knows what my life might have been then?” he asked, shifting his weight so that he stretched his legs out in front of him.
I hated the sadness etched into the lines of his face, the vulnerability lingering beneath the surface of this stunningly handsome man with the playful attitude I wished I could have. His depth was subtle, existing more in the moments when he shifted his expression, when there was no mask to be shown, revealing the raw emotion underneath. If I hadn’t watched him so intently, to memorize every detail of the face that I could see myself falling in love with, I might not have even seen it.
My heart would have been safer if I hadn’t.
“Will you tell me another story?” I asked, swallowing around the thick feeling building in my throat. I wanted nothing more than to give in to the pulsing attraction between us, and I might have, in a moment of rebellion against the Crown and all it demanded of me, if it wasn’t for the way my heart fluttered in my chest every time he met my eyes. I would have leaped, if it wasn’t for the way my stomach thrilled with a surge of something between nervousness and excitement every time he laid a hand on me.
If it wasn’t for the fact that I could very easily fall in love with this man who could never be mine, because even if he didn’t move on to someone else, he would never belong to me in the first place. The Fae Mark meant he had a mate out there, someone who would search for him until his dying day.