Series: Willow Winters
Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 72146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
When I take a step toward him, he retreats farther into the shadows. My heart aches. I do not wish to end things without ever knowing my lover’s name.
“Come closer,” I say, in my firmest tone although it still breaks. The agony of what must be done lingers in my chest. “I want to see your face.”
He does not move for several beats. I’m beginning to think he will not move at all when he takes one quiet step, then another, and then another, until he is standing in the low light from one of the sconces.
When he’s close enough my body tenses.
The man’s frame reminds me of the shadows in the night, but he has scars all down his face. Burns that drag down his jawline. The left side of him… They put him to the fire. His dark eyes look back at me and he parts his lips but doesn’t speak. He clears his throat and takes a deep inhale, his broad chest rising. Where Jasper is a knight in shining armor, this man is the dark knight who wears the damage of war.
I move toward him, my hand outreached, and he steps back.
“Don’t,” I say. “Stay. I want to see you.”
This time, when I move closer, he does not move away.
I take slow steps toward him until we are within arm’s reach of one another.
“Is this why you hide yourself?” I question. “Were you afraid I would see your scars?”
There is pain in his eyes, but he does not answer.
“You can talk to me,” I insist, and he turns around and heads for the door.
It surprises me—I did not think he would move so quickly. I rush to his side and grab his hand.
“Please, don’t leave. If you will not speak to me, then at least kiss me. Please. Please.”
He looks down at me, and I cannot describe how much more pain has come to his eyes. He looks wretched, which is how I feel. If he turns around and leaves me with nothing, disappearing from my life as if he had never been there at all, then I will be devastated.
“Please,” I whimper, my bottom lip trembling. “Don’t leave me,” I beg.
He moves a closer, then closer still, then slowly bends his face to mine.
The warmth of his forehead against mine is nothing compared to the heat of his body. He towers over me, still as could be, as if afraid to move.
He’s giving me time to change my mind, I realize. He is giving me time to decide that his face is not one I want to kiss. But he is the man in the shadows. I have felt his lips on me before, and his mouth, and none of that was changed by the scars on his face.
Slowly I reach up, my hands on the sides of his face. One rough with stubble, the other with scar. His left side has been sliced and the scar cuts through his brow. There’s not an angle in which he could hide the brutality.
Finally, his lips meet mine, and they are just the same as I remember. He kisses me softly, still giving me time to pull away or change my mind, but I don’t.
It takes a few moments, but at last he puts his arms around me and kisses me deeper. He tastes me as if he might never have the chance again, and I kiss him back as if there is no tomorrow and only now.
I’m breathless when he draws back, and he is as well. Surely he is one of the men we took in following the war. Someone who stays on guard at night. It all makes so much sense. No one would see him in the darkness.
I think he might kiss me again—even follow me into my bed—but he only gives my face a long look, kisses my forehead, and leaves. My hands drop to my side, and I’m left stunned and questioning everything.
There is no noise from the guards in the hall. He must know a way to stay hidden, because no one raises an alarm. No one does anything at all. The hallway stays quiet, and so does my balcony.
I wait for him for a long while, hoping he will come back. Hoping he will give me another chance to speak to him, or even to hold his hand. I would invite him into my bed, if I could.
But he does not return, and eventually I fall asleep with an aching loneliness where my heart should be.
Chapter 16
Cora
I sleep heavily, to my surprise, but my morning begins with a deep longing.
I wish for life not to be so heavy.
I’m greeted with another shock the moment I open my eyes.
There is a bottle on my bedside table. A bottle in a familiar shape. The glass bottle does not have a label on it, or any sort of writing, but I know just from its shape and size that it’s a tincture to prevent pregnancy.