"We can’t let the blood stay on you any longer; the lycan’s venom is dangerous." Then his eyes train from my hands to my heaving chest, trying to lock me again in them, and he grabs the ties of the robe. I grab his hand, startled at what he is doing.
"I have to see where you are hurt and..." He moved close enough that there was no space between us, and I could feel the heat rolling off him. "...clean it." It was a low, dark whisper that promised something.
I swallow, meeting his eyes, unable to understand what it is about him that seems so familiar; I do not know him, and everything about him feels familiar.
"I do not know you can’t..." I thought about stepping back, but all I did was stand there as he moved impossible closer, his eyes moving from my eyes to down at my chest, and he put his hand on my shoulder.
"Rosette, you must know I won’t harm you, but I can heal you; you are wounded, and we cannot delay this."
I catch my breath before I lose myself and try to move away. "I will do it on my own."
"Rosette," He grabbed my shoulder and pulled me close, crashing me down to his chest, and my hand went flat on his chest, over his racing heart.
"I am trying to take care of you."
None of his words make any sense, despite the sincerity, the concern, and the utmost pain I see in his eyes when he meets mine, pleading with me. Why is this stranger of all the people I know looking at me like he does not see anyone else but me?
Then I remembered his words in the woods: "She is my mate! he shouted, and they went away. Just like this, all it took was for me to open my mouth to ask what it meant, but he pulled me down to the bed. My eyes widen as he grabs my chin, and the touch again takes over my nerves. The sensation! What is this tugging at my chest? It was tugging on my chest to the point where it started to hurt. He came down to my eye level, and I got lost in his gaze. The pain vanished, and his hot hand moved from my face to my neck. Goosebump erupted all over my body, and his hand trailed down while my heart raced, feeling the heat imitating from him.
His soothing voice broke the silence: "Stay still and don’t look away from me."
He grabbed the ties of the robe and pulled.
The ties of the robe became undone; he slipped the robes off my shoulder, and the tips of his fingers traced down my arm.
"Why?" I whispered.
"Why…what?" He asked, his voice as low as mine, just our words meeting each other in the sparking air around us. He leaned closer to me, so close that I could see his eye flecks shining in the candlelight.
This complete stranger has mezmerized me; I have no sense to make it stop as his hand travels back to my shoulder and heads for the ties of my vest. I sharply inhale as he starts pulling the ties effortlessly. "Why are you helping me?"
The vest hit the ground.
He met my eyes, his eyes dark, and his hand traced the neckline of my shirt. He stepped back. I exhaled silently as he went to get the wet cloth. I wrap my arms around each other, shielding against his dark gaze, but when he turns to me again, my hands shake around me, and I hold myself tighter.
He walked closer to me, his every step a delight, and he stopped in front of me.
"Trust me," He wrapped his hand around my wrist and slowly pulled my hands away. As he sat beside me, he looked down at my hands. His patient gaze never wavered from me. I recalled the fury I had seen in his eyes before, which now contrasted sharply with his reassuring manner. He put my shaking hand on his shoulder, and my whole being gravitated towards his eyes. My gaze never slipped from his. I waited for the crawling and clipping feeling to shake me inside, but it never did.
"I will be careful," he said, pressing the cloth on my brow, and I stiffened and closed my eyes.
"Breathe." My body, as if under his command, did as he said, and I breathed. My muscles throbbed as the cuts and bruises came into contact with the wet cloth. It stung, and I bit my lips to not flinch out loud. He gently pressed the wet cloth on the corner of my lips, and heat bloomed where he touched, my fingernails digging into his shoulder.
He was softly cleaning my face. The cold cloth felt better as I felt the heat rise in me. I shivered, and goosebumps erupted all over my body. He slid off the cloth, coming down to my neck. My breath hitched, and a few droplets of water fell on my chest. I opened my eyes. He ran the wet cloth over the swell of my breast, and his eyes turned darker. My lips parted. He pulled away, curling his fingers into fists, and his neck turned red.
The tension rolled off him, and the strange, uneasy clenching feeling in my lower stomach turned into knots. I wasn’t sure how to read him. Was he angry? Next, he carefully guided my hand to rest on his knees, and the touch sent my blood into a roaring heatwave.
My body's reaction to him puzzled me the most. His hands were gentle, yet his jaw was tightening, as if he were restraining himself from something. The tension in the air started to steal my breath, and the room felt extremely hot. The urge to do something almost paralysed me.
"My Lord, what is the matter? You look tense. You don’t have to do this. I can…" I reached for the washcloth.
"Don’t," he said, pulling away. "I want to,"
"Tonight has been a bit testing." His gaze met mine again, turning darker. I could feel the air thick with tension; my breathing was ragged, and his breathing changed. My heart squeezed in my chest and filled my mind; everything seemed to melt away and was not clear enough to determine what it was that I should say.
Lord Xendroite's eyes were digging deep into mine, trying to touch beyond my body—they were seeking out my soul. He rested his hand on either side of me on the bed; he was closer than ever, leaving no room for me to think or breathe. The only thing I could see were his eyes and the way his lips were aligned with mine.
"Are you made to test my patience?" It sounded like a plea, and my heart fluttered like a hummingbird as my eyes moved from his eyes to his nose to his lips, which seemed particularly soft. They were close; all I have to do is lean, and they will be on me. Something inside of me was awakened and throbbing with a demand, and I didn’t know how to fully fulfil it.
His other hand reached for me again, touching my cheeks. My breathing quiked, my heart raced, and his woody cinimon essence enveloped me. Every nerve in my body throbbed in anticipation, and I sat there still, hoping that he wouldn't and waiting that he would. He met my eyes once again, searching for something, before he pressed his lips to mine and his hand reached for my shirt.