Chapter 11 Too Good To Be True
Too Good To Be True
Over the next few days, the intimate confines of the mountain hut forced a series of accidental, electrifying collisions between Sheba and Idan.
Their hands brushed over the handle of the cast-iron kettle, while their shoulders bumped as they navigated the narrow corridor.
His palm even grazed the small of her back whenever they reached for the same jar of dried grains.
The slow-burning ignition lit the atmosphere until the air coiled with a wild charge.
By now, Idan was sleeping each night beside her.
He didn’t bother to mask the flames blazing in his eyes as he raked them over her each time he slid alongside her, not hiding his desire whatsoever.
Sheba, incapable of resisting his massive frame, and his radiated furnace-like heat nestled into him, every part of her throbbing for him.
One morning, Sheba woke to the sun breaching the shutters and bit her lip because Idan lay with his head on her chest.
His hand encircled her waist, and his heavy thigh flung over her legs, anchoring her to him.
Unable to help herself, Sheba sank her hand into his nape, loving the waterfall of his luxurious, thick tresses, breathing in the musk and scent of his manliness.
Sheba couldn’t quite put her finger on what Idan had done to her, but she didn’t recognize the person she was becoming around him.
There was this effortless gravity in the way he moved, a quiet pull that made her want to anchor her essence in his presence.
She took an inhale that shifted into a sudden, breath-stealing realization that she was falling for him, and falling hard.
It was a total paradox: he was the one causing her pulse to spiral, yet he was the only source of absolute stillness, her rock from which she drew strength.
His care of her, his protectiveness, was imbued with a sweetness that knocked her off her feet.
She attempted to fight the overwhelming emotion off, yet the fact was, she wanted him; yearning with a heart that wouldn’t stop beating triple time for him.
He shifted, rousing, moving to anchor his elbow beside her head.
His freakin’ sexy sleepy eyes lit on her, and his other hand moved through the dim light until his palm glided over the curve of her face.
Good morning, she murmured subvocally.
A good morning indeed, waking up to you.
His thumb traced the line of her jaw with a light stroke that sent pleasure arcing through her.
Her eyes fluttered shut, her pulse drumming against the friction of his calloused skin. When she forced her lids open, his gaze burned with a radiant, amber radiance.
He pursed his lips, a guttural ‘fokk’ vibrating in his chest just before he lowered his head and his mouth claimed hers.
The kiss was a collision of hunger and long-denied raw craving that obliterated the morning chill, sending a surge of molten heat through her veins.
It wasn’t gentle in the least; it was wild, bold, and demanding, the firmness of his mouth working over the softness of hers.
She arched her back, slid her grasp around his neck, sinking her fingers through his lustrous, thick locks, to pull him closer.
She flung a thigh over his as the embrace fermented into a fiery, rhythmic molding of lips and savage lashing of tongues.
They suddenly stopped, panting, mouths just touching, as their breaths mingled, the shock of their passion too much to handle.
With a growl, she surged into him again, demanding a second meld, her hands tangling in his hair to anchor herself against the sheer force of his proximity.
Every point of contact, the press of his chest, the grip of his hand on her jaw, the slide of his tongue over hers, so scorching it branded her as his.
Need, pure fokkin’ desire, flooded her senses, a heavy, intoxicating tide that threatened to drown her.
Hit with the magnitude of their inferno, she tore away, knifing away from him.
A surge of panic ignited in her gut, her breathing a frantic staccato as she scrambled to find the edge of the bed.
She placed a hand over her nape, where her pulse thumped in an agitated rhythm.
She sank back into the furred pillows, face tilted away from him, as his unblinking, lust-powered focus tracked the rigid curve of her face and body.
The silence stretched, brittle and cold, as she stared through the window at the wild, storming snow obscuring the ridge.
I sense a sorrow in your heart, he murmured into her mind. A hesitancy to let the inevitable scorching happen between us.
The blizzard continued its assault on the glass, a white wall of chaos that mirrored her internal state.
‘It’s because I’m not sure, fokk, I’m scared because I’ve had so many relationships in my past fail,’ she shared, her voice a fractured whisper.
‘My ex-boyfriend twisted my concept of trust. I’ve endured cheating and the burn of betrayal.
I’ve also been told I was too much, too fiery, too headstrong, and my spirit too fierce.
I’ve been rejected for the crime of being myself until my heart became a fortress of caution. That’s my freakin’ reality.’
The bitterness in her soul laced her words, but he nodded, taking it in stride.
‘Thing is salkia, I’m no mere man,’ Idan growled, the sound a tectonic shift in the quiet room. ‘I don’t think or act like one.’
He surged, closing the distance between them.
‘I’m not daunted by your strength; in fact, I adore your fierceness. I admire your confidence; fokk, it does not challenge me, it inspires me. It heats my blood in a way I’ve never experienced.’
She turned to him, her expression wary.
‘I feel a pull toward you as well,’ she confessed. ‘You also have this way of navigating my emotional storms when I lose my internal compass. Sante for that.’
He reached out, his thumb and forefinger capturing her jaw to tilt her face to his.
His amber eyes burned with an ancient fire.
‘Salkia, you are a queen, and I have no interest in the triviality of games. I recognize the exhaustion in your soul; you are tired of the same old hollow promises.’
He leaned in, his breath a warm ghost against her lips.
‘That is sawa, woman, because I have you now. All those weak-ass males in your past never loved you; they were running game. Extracting what they could, and calling it devotion. Now, a real man, a warrior for whom empires have crumbled and who has won battles with immortal deities, is stepping into the gap. Don’t allow the ghosts of your history to test your patience or try your resolve.
That shit is history. Lose the worry, Queen, and let me into your heart. ’
The blunt force of his conviction shattered her final defenses, her barriers falling as tears misted her eyes.
Sheba blinked as he surged closer to her, reaching for her, his mouth descending once more on hers.
His touch was tender, the velvet brush of his lips against hers expressing his empathy.
However, the softness didn’t last.
The kiss soon firmed into a scorching meld that again demanded every ounce of her attention.
She found herself clutching his thick hair with one hand, stroking and pulling him into her with savage need.
Her other hand glided over his sinewed back and shoulders as she drowned in a tidal wave of passion and raw desire.
For the first time in her life, the heat didn’t feel like a threat; it was a sanctuary, and she realized she was undeniably safe.
After that long, smoldering kiss in bed, Idan made sure Sheba remained at his side throughout most of the coming days, unable to tear his gaze from her.
She joined him on his rounds and even in the dim warmth of the birthing shed, where she knelt in the straw to assist an ewe.
Her nursing skills were put to work, and when the new lamb bleated in her arms, her face illuminated by a raw, luminous wonder.
Once more, his soul jolted, falling deeper for her with every moment.
A day later, Lago departed the farm for a few weeks.
He set out for the lower mountain slopes, heading for his parents’ smallholding in Lattaya village before the snowfall set in.
He serves as my hand throughout the summer, and returns to the village during the colder months, Idan told Sheba. His exit signals the true arrival of winter.
They stood outside the hut in the freezing dusk, as the sun dipped toward the horizon, tracking the youth’s silhouette until it dissolved into the forests far below.
‘I might be leaving soon, too,’ Sheba murmured, her breath blooming in the frigid air. ‘An evac ship might be on the way to fetch me.’
The unexpected statement hit Idan hard, whisking his breath away.
A sudden, piercing terror clawed at his throat, and his jaw tightened as he attempted to shut down the wild reaction
She caught the shift and pivoted to him. ‘Idan, what’s wrong?’
Her leaving was wrong.
His soul ached at the thought of a future without her by his side.
Fokk, he’d gotten attached so fast.
His heart throbbed, and unable to process her inevitable departure, he lurched away without a word.
His boots crunched through the frozen snow as he retreated toward the dark sanctuary of the pines, his aimless direction driven only by the need to escape the crushing gravity of her words.
Her footsteps hurried after him, the sound of her labored breathing stabbing through the thin air. She reached out, catching his arm and spinning him around.
‘Idan, talk to me, please. What did I say wrong?’
He paused, his lips pulled into a tight line as he fought to find the right words.
After a few long, silent moments, he took a ragged inhale.
‘Perhaps, Sheba, I don’t want you to go.’
She blinked up at him, stunned into silence.
‘Maybe it’s too soon to say this,’ he growled on. ‘I don’t want you to feel like you owe me a single favor, but I also don’t want to lose you. I’ve gotten used to you, and -.’
He paused, seeking the right words, cursing under his breath. ‘- the thought of you gone fokkin’ blades.’
He gave a small, helpless shrug. ‘You also might not feel the same and want to be free of this place. Yet it feels like I’ve got a countdown clock on whateverthefokk this is.’