Chapter 47: Tipping the scales

Sometimes you just can't maintain control.

-Leenda

Leenda stumbled back from the cot and landed on her tailbone on the ground. The hat fell from her head, and her hair tumbled down around her shoulders. She cried out, her lips burning and her fingertips tingling from the feel of his skin.

“What are you doing?” he said.

He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. For a moment she thought he would help her up, but after he jumped up—he wore white cotton undershorts down to his knees—he backed away from her. She couldn’t see his face in the dimness, but could imagine its terror.

Now that she had his attention, she didn’t know what to say. She’d thought to insist that he come with her, that he listen to reason, but that seemed as inadequate as asking Rashel to tell him the truth. She started to stand and accidentally kicked the eagle figurine.

He leaned over and snatched the figures up from the ground.

“Where’s the lion?”

On her feet, she dug into her pocket and pulled out the lion. As she extended her hand to him, palm up, the lion resting on it, the figurine seemed to wink at her in the light. He reached for it, and she snatched her hand back.

“Not until you finish that kiss."

He gaped at her. “What?”

“I want a proper end to that kiss. Throwing me off is no way to treat me. I’m your mate.”

He made noises of confusion and frustration.

“You felt it just like I did,” she said. “The power of that kiss. We were meant for each other, Wrend. You belong with me. And you know it.”

She really had no idea if he knew it, or not, but a human would say that kind of thing. Did the human brain influence even her words? It wasn’t enough that the body affected her emotions, now the brain dictated what came out of her mouth?

“It’s forbidden,” he said. “I can’t kiss you.”

She stepped toward him, tilting her head forward so she had to look at him from beneath her eyelashes.

“Let’s get away from here, Wrend. Let’s go somewhere we can be alone—without worrying about paladins or anyone else.”

A struggle passed through his eyes as she put the lion on the cot behind him, and placed her hands on his hips. It took all of her effort to not kiss him again—if he got another kiss he’d have to work for it. And he wanted it. She could see the hunger in his eyes, feel it in the trembling of his stomach muscles.

“Just come with me for a little while, so we can talk.”

“You don’t want to just talk.”

“We do need to talk. But if other things happen,” she said, running a forefinger down his arm and taking his hand in hers, “I won’t object.”

He licked his lips. His eyes glinted with conflict, and she feared that if he voiced his doubts they would overtake him. So, she reached both her hands up to the back of his neck, stood on the tips of her toes, and pulled his face down to hers.

He resisted far less than she expected or hoped.