Chapter 7 #2
He makes a show of glancing over his shoulder, looking toward the pile of weapons. Then his head swivels back to me, and his eyes gleam with amusement. But beneath that smirk, I glimpse a hint of accusation… a hint of danger.
My stomach plummets to the ground.
Oh, gods.
He knows. He knows I stole the knives.
“Little moth, are you planning to stab me?” His voice is smooth and deep, and his taunting tone matches the smirk on his face.
My mouth goes dry and fear cascades through me. I part my lips and try to speak, but no words issue forth.
“Don’t lie to me. I want to know why you stole the weapons and where you’ve hidden them.”
Because I’m an idiot, my gaze immediately darts to my rucksack.
He glances over his shoulder again and chuckles.
But when his eyes return to me, his visage isn’t as severe as I might expect.
Instead, there’s a glimmer of… indecision.
It’s as though he abruptly wavers. Perhaps he just realized he’s scaring me again.
He swallows hard, then his face softens further. He doesn’t quite appear apologetic, but I no longer fear he’s about to snap my neck. Relief starts to spread through me, tentative at first, until my breathing finally returns to normal.
“No matter what you do, Isabel, whether you plot my death or even the downfall of my people, I will never harm you.” He strokes a hand through my hair, gently caressing, as he continues staring intently into my eyes.
“You needn’t be afraid of me, little moth.
I swear on the gods, and I swear on the souls of my ancestors, that I will never hurt you.
You are my mate, and I only want to protect you. I want you to feel safe with me.”
Why is my throat suddenly burning? I blink against the sheen of tears that’s also forming in my eyes. Gods, why am I feeling so emotional all of a sudden? I don’t want to find any solace in his words, but for a reason I can’t fathom, his little speech has filled me with longing.
Maybe it’s because until I heard his voice in my head, I didn’t know for certain that I was fated to a highborn fae male.
There was always the possibility that the orc seer had made the entire thing up just to save me from being violated.
So, for the past three years, I lived with the hope that Gideon wasn’t real.
I went about my life thinking that I might be destined to remain alone, since no man in Braemar wanted anything to do with a female they believed had been sullied by orcs.
But now Gideon is standing before me, promising he’ll never hurt me, promising he means to keep me safe. I never believed I might find safety with a male, human or otherwise, so his words are reminding me of old wounds and the secret pain I always wished to keep hidden.
I blink, and a tear rolls down my cheek. Gideon is quick to wipe it away, then he returns to stroking my hair.
“I pray you’re not lying,” I finally whisper, and I hate the way my voice quavers.
“I would never lie to you, little moth. I would cut out my tongue first.”
I don’t have a response for that, so I remain silent.
I hold his gaze as he continues staring at me and stroking my hair.
His touch is cold, yet it incites warmth within me.
Warmth that spreads between my legs and undulates until I find myself on the verge of moaning.
I press my lips together, determined not to make a sound.
Finally, he releases me and takes two steps back. He gestures at the makeshift bed. “Come and get some sleep, Isabel. The protective ward will stay in place throughout the night. However, I will remain awake and keep watch.”
Relief unfurls inside me. Not only will he apparently leave me untouched tonight, but he doesn’t plan to sleep next to me. He moves to a stool on the other side of the fire and takes a seat, leaving me to get settled beneath the furs, mercifully alone.
I curl up on my side, facing away from Gideon. But the torches remain burning, and I see his massive shadow as he rises to his feet and slowly paces near the entrance of the cave.
I close my eyes and try to sleep, but I don’t find rest easily. I’m ever aware of Gideon’s proximity, and there’s a part of me that wishes he would join me in the bed. Not to claim me, but to hold me while I sleep.
How preposterous. I shouldn’t want that. I shouldn’t want him anywhere near me.
And yet… I yearn for his touch. I ache to experience the chill of his breath on my neck again. I even find myself wondering what it might be like to kiss him. Would his lips be as cold as frost?
At last, I drift off, but my dreams aren’t restful, and I awake many times during the night. I toss and turn beneath the furs. In my dreams, I’m running from Gideon, but he’s always closing in, right on my heels. Each time, I awake just before he catches me.
His voice also keeps echoing through my dreams.
Don’t you dare run from me, Isabel. Don’t you realize I’ll always find you?
You’re mine, little moth. You will belong to me forever.