Ryan
I watch Jacob lead Mercy away. He’s careful not to touch her, but his hand hovers over her lower back as she lifts her skirts to pick her way out of the forest. I let out my breath and turn to Aviva, who has been sitting silently on a ledge surrounding the remains of the temple ruins she was guarding like a dragon defending its horde the first time we were ever able to speak to each other.
I look at her like I looked at her that night after her father gave her to me in marriage. She’s still wild, still beautiful, and has an echo of that same furious look that cloaked her face during our first few days together.
My heart beats slightly of rhythm as her scent is carried on the wind–lovely, soft, sweet. A scent that makes me curl my hands into fists to stop from touching her.
This
