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His vision was smoky with lust.
The scent of her filled his senses, as fresh as flying on a cool spring night and impossibly alluring. This harpy was strong and bold and free—she wore her desire boldly and held his gaze with a direct passion headier than the finest whiskey. After spending every day of the past eight years protecting his sister and desperately clawing out a future for her, he would give anything to release himself from that burden for a night.
To drink in Enid’s glorious, wanton freedom.
“I should take you back to the Ball,” he said, forcing the words out. “But I do not want to.”
“Good.” Her lips curved into a sinful smile. “For I do not wish to go.”
Her golden eyes were luminous in the fog, beaconing him into darker, desire-filled waters.
Who knew sirens had wings and talons?
But this one had captured him as surely as any song.
His fingers flexed against the smooth skin of her shoulders. It had been too long since he’d allowed himself a break. An escape from duty and work. And God, he’d never been so hard for a woman. Her strength invited challenge—invited him to shed his civilized cloak and give in to temptation.
He slid his hands up to cup her face. “What if I am dangerous?”
She drew closer. “I hope you are.”
Even through his lenses, her bright gaze burned into his.
Without looking away, she eased out of his grip, just far enough for his fingers to trail across her cheek. Reaching up, she laced her fingers through his right hand. She rubbed her cheek against their locked knuckles, and then slowly pressed a kiss to each of his digits.
Arousal hummed through his veins and sent his heart pounding.
The corner of her lips curved, and she delicately licked the tip of his index finger. Scraping her teeth across the sensitive pad, she drew it into her mouth. And oh, God, her mouth was hot and wet.
His hips bucked at the sensation.
“Enid.” He twined his fingers into her hair and yanked her in for a rough kiss.
She tasted like forbidden fruit.
Musky and sweet, like a pomegranate from mythology. Only sweater, as if Hecate herself had emerged from the depths to offer him a Turkish delight baked of pure desire. His hold on her hair tightened, and he deepened the kiss, tangling his tongue with hers.
Fuck, he wanted to sink into her.
Sharp teeth scraped across his bottom lip.
A deep, rasping groan escaped him at the sensation. But he forced himself to pull back, to search her face. “You are a lady. I am not eligible, and I cannot offer you my hand.”
“I know.” She bit the tip of his thumb. “It’s rather perfect.”
He gaped at her. “I beg your pardon?”
“I don’t want an offer, and the terms of my inheritance restrict my options most egregiously—but I am no meek virgin.” She nipped his bottom lip. Her voice dropped to a sultry whisper, while her gaze seemed to glow with an almost predatory promise. “Tonight, I want pleasure. I wantyou.”
A wave of lust nearly blinded him.
“Tell me,” she said, scoring those delectable claws of hers down his chest. “Do you want that, too?”
Honor dedicated that he should lie.
Except right now, surrounded by fog and forest, he couldn’t fathom what he’d say—or how much he’d hate himself in the morning. Honor could take a long walk off a short pier.
“God, yes.” He crushed his mouth to hers.
