Page 41 of Ashborne Forged

His brow furrowed. “What side?” He glanced up to meet my eyes, taking a quick measure, then went back to his task.

But I felt the bond pulse when he looked at me. I smiled.

“The side of you that can smile,” I said. “You’re happier here. But also a little mischievous. And… thoughtful.”

He shot me a heated glance, and images rose before my mind’s eye of the gasping, sweaty pleasure of his touch, and his body and—

“I felt that,” he muttered. “If you want a meal of actual food, you’ll need to turn your mind to something else for a time. Or I won’t be held responsible for you going hungry,” he said with a low chuckle.

“You make me hungry.” The words just came. I shocked myself. He made me shock myself. But they were also true.

He went still, staring at me. Then his smile grew. “I like this side of you,” he said, brushing his hands on his thighs as he stood and started toward me.

“What side?”

“The side that isn’t afraid of me.”

I tipped my head, watching him approach, and let my eyes trail up his long, muscular body, the trill in my belly met with the warm rush from the bond.

His body was strong, lean. He moved like a cat, all casual saunter until something caught his attention, then sharp-eyed focus, and coiled strength, waiting to pounce.

When he came to a stop at my toes, I bit my lip, then said what I thought. “I’m not afraid of you. Unless you’re angry.”

The lines on his brow deepened, but he nodded. “I know I taught you to fear that. But you should be certain—you have nothing to fear from me, Grace. No matter how angry I become, I’ll never hurt you,” he said seriously.

But you already have. I pushed the uncharitable thought away.

I knew he meant what he said. Only time would tell if he could live by it. But something echoed in his tone. A layer of his heart that was still obscured from me. “What is—”

“Grace, I love your eyes on me. But now we have a choice to make: Because you looking at me like that makes me want to say to hell with this meal, and just have you again.”

My stomach flipped and I fought a smile.

“But if I pick you up and carry you back into that hut, by the time we come out, our dinner will be in the belly of the wildlife, and this fire will be cold. So, you’re going to have to tell me which appetite you want satisfied first. As a rule, I can only do one at a time.”

I tipped my head. “As a rule?”

He grinned. “There are small exceptions.”

“Oh? Are those exceptions available right now?”

“Sadly, no, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

I pretended to pout, but really, I was delighted by his playfulness. Then he dropped to squat, elbows on his knees, and hands gripped before him. But his eyes were fast on me. He arched one brow in the question, and didn’t touch me.

And I knew: He wouldn’t touch me unless I chose him over the meal.

I put on a show of thinking hard, tapping my chin. Then sighed. “I suppose we’ll have to eat food, first.”

The light in his eyes didn’t die, but I saw him douse the fire as he nodded, then squeezed my ankle, straightened, and turned back to the food.

“Voski?” I asked as he walked away.

“Hmmm?”

“Why aren’t you afraid of me anymore?”

He stopped abruptly, then turned, frowning. “What are you—”