Page 17 of Venomous Throne

I closed my eyes, took a steadying breath, and refused to let my feelings invade the words. “My late husband shot it before I could take the new burs out.”

His hand, so warm, solarge, lingered over mine for a moment.

“That was very wrong of him,” Jaxon said softly. At this level, his voice was a velvety midnight. “There is so little kindness left in the world that to stamp it out is an unforgivable sin.”

My heart melted a fraction.

“Yeah, well, there was a chicken I rescued from being butchered a few months after that incident,” I said to avoid the conversation. “At least he’s fat and happy.”

Jaxon urged me to continue my work, removing his hand. “Tell me about this chicken.”

Dio, he was a saint! To sit there and listen to my ridiculous tales of woe while I poked and probed his flesh. Nervous, I blabbed about nothing and everything. He didn’t seem to mind, and it kept me from fixating on every stitch I placed along the length of his arm.

As I clipped the thread short and sat back to look at my work, I apologized.

“I just word vomited all over you.”

A gruff breath escaped his lips. “Don’t worry. I liked it.”

Then he leaned forward. Once again, I found myself falling into his turbulent, stormy gaze. “Thank you, Isabella, for helping me.”

He was so close, his warm breath fanned my face.

I wet my lips, pulse suddenly racing.

The air between us charged with something otherworldly, making my skin tingle. His eyes dropped to my mouth, and my breath caught in my throat. Was he going to…? My heart hammered so loudly I was certain he could hear it. I’d never been kissed before—not really, not properly—and suddenly I wanted nothing more than for this mysterious man to be my first. I tilted my head slightly, wondering if I should close my eyes, if my lips would know what to do when his touched them.

But then Jaxon straightened, clearing his throat as he put distance between us. The moment shattered like glass.

“Sleep well, bella,” he said, his voice rougher than before. He stood from the stool, towering over me again. “Thank you for the stitches.”

Disappointment washed over me in a cold wave. I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“Where do you live?” I blurted out. “You know, in case your arm gets infected and you need to sue your unlicensed physician?”

There was that sound again. The gruff breath. Was that how he laughed?

“In the neighborhood.”

“A transplant?” I cocked my head. “I know every family around, and I didn’t know there was a newcomer.”

If that didn’t sound odd…. I wanted to slap my head.

“I like to welcome the new neighbors,” I added to make it sound less stupid.

He examined me closely. “Just passing through.”

His words felt heavy and foreboding. “It’s a lovely place, if you decide to stay. I care deeply about this community.”

“Good to know.” With that, he turned and left, leaving a sense of emptiness in his absence.

I blinked after him. My heart pitter-pattered, with a sharp pinch of something. Just a thanks and goodbye? Groaning, I dropped my head onto the counter, barely catching it in my hands. Santa Caterina, I was an idiot. Strays didn’t stick around.

“Isabella,” I muttered. “What are you doing, lady?”

Pining?

That would never do.