Page 8 of Ashborne Forged

The tug and jerk shifted my weight as her little fingers worked at the knot.

She was undressing me.

“Grace,” I croaked.

She’d somehow already loosened the cravat and pulled the ends free to dangle down my chest. But now she worked at the buttons of the white shirt, and when I spoke, she shook her head, frowning, as if she burrowed for something.

“Grace, you don’t have to—”

With half my shirt unbuttoned, she suddenly slipped a cool hand under the cotton and flattened her palm against my chest. And the moment she did, the bond pulsed.

I licked my lips, trying to find words, but Grace raised her chin and stared at me with wide eyes.

“It’s you I can feel inside me,” she breathed.

Our eyes locked and a jolt snapped through me.

She sucked in a breath. “You really are afraid?”

Shame and pride mingled in my chest, so that I wanted to squirm like a child being reprimanded at lessons. “I told you—”

“I didn’t believe you,” she said quietly. But then she sighed, and as I reached for her hands, to take them away, she leaned closer, placing her cheek sweetly on my chest. “Your heart is beating so fast,” she whispered. Then lifted her head again, looking at my chest in surprise. “And I can feel it. Inside. I didn’t know that it was you, Voski. I thought all that pulling and tugging was the dragons and just wanting you. But… I can feel you,” she whispered.

I swallowed hard, nodding. “I can sense you, as well.” I’d been avoiding it. Ignoring it. Lying to myself about it. But the truth was, I’d sensed her dimly from the first moment. I’d been working so hard to stay shut down, to keep myself from feeling her, I’d even kept Kham at arm’s length.

When Grace flattened her palm against my sternum, the ache swelled into a surge that rocked through me and I shivered. My cock thickened, and I prayed she didn’t notice my body betraying me. Her fingers curled into my skin, her nails digging in near my heart.

“You do want me!”

“I told you.”

Her head snapped up. “You really are mine!” she breathed.

I huffed, half-thrilled, half-amused, and all mortified because her words made my heart sing. “Yes, Grace, I am,” I said hoarsely, running fingers through my hair. “And I’m a fucking mess. So, please, I’m begging you… be gentle.”

She blinked and our eyes locked. I knew if I didn’t steer this ship, we would come up hard against the rocks of my making. So, I slipped my hand into my shirt, engulfing her small hand in mine and drawing it out—but not letting her go.

No. It was too late for that.

I tugged her closer, pulled her hand around my side to urge her to hold me, then took her face in my hands and held her gaze.

“I am yours,” I whispered the words, and felt the bell of dread and warning toll in my chest, but pushed it aside. “And you’re mine. God help us both.”

She beamed, her full lips stretching as she opened her mouth. But I took them before she could speak.

My Grace.

My mate.

My heart walking out of my chest on its own.

God help us.

God help us all.

3. Make Me Safe

SOUNDTRACK: Pompeii MMXXII by Bastille and Hans Zimmer