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I nod and gather her hands back in mine. “Until you, Viola. You are the embodiment of Winter magic. Power pours from you, even if you cannot see it. I have suspected it was you for ages, but it became abundantly clear this year.”
She winces. “You were watching me?”
I brush my fingers through my hair, and it falls in my eyes. “Yes, I was. And you were captivating.”
Her eyes flick up to mine, and I catch sight of her swallowing. I lean further forward, closing the distance between us. I cannot seem to help myself. She is magnetic, drawing me in. “But what does me being the vessel mean, Mace?” My name on her lips is like a breath of frost, sending shivers down my spine.
“It means you are the conduit we will use to bring Himureal back. Your family was one of the original four noble families.”
“The Mistflow name used to mean greatness,” she mutters so quietly I almost miss it.
“What do you mean, mean greatness?”
“Something my father told me when he gave me the talisman I was telling you about.” Her opening up to me tonight was something unexpected but wholly welcome. I lay one hand atop her own and tilt her chin to look me in the eye with the other.
“You will bring Himureal back, he will bring back the other Gods, and Krillium will have peace again. No more Race, no more famine. Their combined power will make this land comfortable and whole again for everyone. And it will be because of you.” Her eyes are alight with promise, my enthusiasm rubbing off on her.
I genuinely believe the Gods’ return will only mean good things for our land. We have too long been a ship without a rudder, needing guidance. I just pray that Viola will agree to help us. I do not want to force this responsibility on her.
But if it comes to it, I may not have a choice.
“I still don’t think I’m the vessel, Mace.”
She is going to have to stop saying my name, or I’m not going to be responsible for what I do to her.
I brush a piece of her dark hair from her eyes. As I tuck it behind her ear, she tilts her face into my hand. My thumb traces down her jaw and brushes lightly over her bottom lip. Her eyes flutter with the sensation.
It is not my intention to seduce her into becoming the vessel.
No, this is all for me.
“You don’t have to accept or even agree to it now, Viola. We have time,” I murmur, moving closer to her. My knee pushes her legs further apart, and I can’t help but watch as her thighs spread, the dress barely covering the space between her legs. We are close enough now that our foreheads are touching, breath mingling in the rapidly dwindling area between us.
Her breath hitches. I flick my eyes to her heaving chest; the plunging neckline of the feudal fabric dress hints at the curve of her breast, and I long to see more.
When I saw her this morning, I was so pleased she decided to wear it. I spent my time carefully mixing metal and cloth into a protective but sensual outfit, but I was unprepared for how stunning she would be cloaked in the dark fabric.
I raise my eyes to hers once more, seeing the familiar fog of uncertainty within them, and realize I cannot take advantage of the emotional turmoil she is in. Reluctantly, I pull away, sitting back on the sofa away from her. She breathes sharply, leaning to brace herself on her knees. Lightning flashes again, illuminating the conflicted look on her face.
I hear the rain begin to fall, pattering loudly on the roof. “Looks like it’s about to storm,” I say, attempting to lighten some of the palpable tension between us. She nods, pulling both her legs onto the sofa. I catch a flash of the miniature shorts under her dress, barely falling below her ass, and my stomach tightens.
Before I can make a mistake, I stand up from the couch and pace to the window to collect myself. I’ve lost a bit of my control and composure, and that flash of the bare skin of her thighs will spell my destruction. Being near her is intoxicating in the best ways, but I should not get involved.
I cannot risk getting attached to her.
Watching the rain fall and the storm kick up, I roll my shoulders to relieve tension. But when I feel her hand on the small of my back, that tension returns in full force.
“Looks like a pretty heavy storm,” she says, resting her elbow on my shoulder. “I guess I’m stuck here for a bit.”
Chapter 36
Viola
WhatamIdoingwith myself?
It’s one thing to not rebuke his advances but another entirely to encourage them. That’s what I’m doing, I’m sure of it. How else could he take me proclaiming happily I am stuck here with him?
Mace Nightroot.
