EXCERPT:
Gavril
squatted before her, noting that she had removed the spit from the
fire and eaten. She left the hare by the coals to warm and plenty
remained, yet he couldn't muster an appetite. His breath rushed out
in a white cloud as he skimmed a finger lightly down her cheek and
tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She shivered again beneath
his touch. It was colder here on the mountain than their solitary
blanket could warm.
He
swore.
He
shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t.
When
he was king, he might not have worried about her comfort. Parties,
banquets, women, and liquor claimed him then. He'd been too wild to
worry about comfort other than his own. But the man he'd become
cared. Without another thought, he tugged off his boots, lifted the
blanket, and slid in behind her. He shifted his big body against her
and pulled her close.
He
told himself he would stay just long enough to warm her up. Then he
would move back to the other side of the fire and keep watch through
the night.
He
told himself she was better off being a little bit cold than being
held by a man like him.
He
told himself he was a fool.
No
woman had ever felt so good in his arms.
Gavril
slowly stroked her arm as he thought back over her story. She had
suffered. But if she hadn't come to Aquina, they never would have
met. And that he couldn't think about. If he were honest with
himself, he wasn't ready to part from Shyla. Otherwise, he would
have walked away, regardless of the danger to himself.
Shyla
shifted, pressing her sweet bottom against his hips, as she settled
into his embrace. Gavril thought he might die as his body immediately
reacted. Blood shot to his groin, making him hard in seconds. It took
all of his control not to roll her onto her back and kiss her right
then, starting something he shouldn't — something he
couldn’t — finish. Only his sheer will not to cause her more pain
held him back.
With
a ragged breath, he pulled the blanket about their shoulders, wrapped
her in his embrace, and shared his warmth.
She
sighed, her body relaxing against his as she absorbed his heat. Her
hand settled over his, wrapped around her waist.
Gavril
closed his eyes. In the two years since his return to Aquina, he
hadn’t dared to dream of a future. He’d kept his thoughts firmly
on surviving. On scratching out a living as best as a deposed king
was able.
With
Shyla, all that changed. Having her in his arms was like heaven
itself. He felt like a man. Not a street urchin or a king. Just a
simple man with a beautiful woman who stirred his body, mind, and if
what she said was true, his magic. He felt lust rising sharp and hot,
and, for the first time in years, a desire for... more.
He
dreamed of lying before a hearth with her, snuggled as they were
under a blanket, their bodies perspiring from an intense round of
lovemaking. He dreamed of waking with her in his arms as the sun came
through the shutters. He dreamed of growing old with Shyla in his
embrace.
And
he wanted that life like he'd never wanted anything before.
Gavril
rubbed his thumb against her soft hand, savoring that small touch. He
craved it like a dying man. In a sense, he was. He was dying of
loneliness. Shyla’s simple kindness of taking him in eased that
need inside him. Though he knew it was wrong, he soaked up every
touch, every smile she offered.
As
if she knew his need even in her sleep, Shyla wound her fingers with
his and lightly squeezed.
He
breathed deep, smelling the cinnamon scent of her hair, and allowed
himself to relax. Heat from her body seeped into his skin.
With
Shyla tight against him, wrapped in his arms, Gavril slept.
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