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“Your hair.”
I felt my brows draw together in confusion, then understood what he meant. After being here close to a month, now, my hair had grown just enough that I could tie it neatly at the nape of my neck. I couldn’t do a braid or anything fancy – the hair was still far too short and stuck straight out from my nape like a little tuft of wheat. But the length, and the ability to tie it back, had been comforting to me this morning.
Although some of that comfort was evaporating under Sigwulf’s hard stare.
Who says that? Just says, ‘Your hair,’ like that without any other context?
It alarmed me how much his simple comment had made me fret. It was worrying, the way I wanted him to approve of me. Worrying because, deep down, I didn’t think I’d ever be quite good enough to pass his stern standards.
I ran a self-conscious hand over the back of my head, patting the tuft of hair. I forced myself to drop my hand when Sigwulf rose from his bench and crossed the small distance to me.
Don’t say it. Don’t ask. Don’t be that pathetic…
I asked anyway. “Is it OK? Do you… Do you like it?”
Blast.
His gaze passed slowly down my face to my neck, lingering at the base of my throat. Heat flamed under my skin everywhere his gaze landed, and at the same time, goosebumps pebbled my arms beneath my cloak. My breath caught, my pulse galloping.
Sigwulf’s mouth twitched, his gaze seemingly fastened to the place where the base of my throat throbbed in time to my frantic heart.
“I can see more of your neck this way.”
Is that a yes?
Or was that disapproval? Was it rude to show your neck in Orcborne culture? Dragon Caste didn’t have hair, so that wasn’t a question at least. Hildfree has no hair and we can see her neck! But then again, she is married. Maybe it’s weird for a single woman to wear her hair back?
I’ve already gone past the point of pathetic by asking him if he likes my hair. I might as well go all the way and ask him to clarify what the blazes that neck comment means.
My lips parted to speak, but the only sound that came out was a muffled gasp as my hood swept up over the back of my head. I blinked in the sudden darkness.
Rough, deft fingers skimmed over my forehead, adjusting the hood so that it didn’t come down over my eyes.
My forehead screamed with sensation, prickles exploding down my neck from the simple brush of his calloused fingertips over my skin. My goosebumps hardened further.
My nipples hardened, too.
I stared up at the brutal yet regal slashes of his broad bone structure, the carved jaw, the curving tusks and full mouth. How had I never noticed how soft his lips looked under the hard pull of his usually stony expression?
Sigwulf’s hands had slid down and came to rest on my shoulders. The feel of them was almost more than I could bear. Warm and weighted and so huge. They made me feel both safe and sensitized. My insides swirled, turning to heated honey, when I imagined the slide of those strong hands across my bare abdomen, my breasts.
You can’t think like that! He’s your employer and you are being insane!
If Sigwulf could have heard my thoughts, he no doubt would have disapproved. I wasn’t sure if it was a Dragon Caste thing or just his personality, but he always maintained an impressive professional decorum. A distance.
He reinforced that distance now, stepping backwards and away from me.
“You should eat. Then we’ll go,” he said.
I ate quickly.
And we went.
Chapter 11
Sigwulf
I was certain that I was not good company on the ride over to the Orcborne market. Besides the sound of our horses’ hooves against the half-frozen mud of the road, there was little else between us. Certainly no conversation.
