This is a snippet of my WIP, Evermore, the third novel in my Descendants of Ra series.
Meet Avery and Emeline!
A shift in the air alerted him that he was no longer alone. The hesitant whisper of feet gliding across the carpet revealed his intruder. Could he not have a moment alone? Maybe if he didn’t move she would go away and leave him to finish his repairing his wall. But her scent—a desert rose mix that promised a dangerous ride—tortured him.
Silence ensued, stretched painfully he had to opened one eye and peered at her. Pity welled in her startled eyes as she stared at his scars. He wanted neither.
Her gaze shot to his. Questions danced in her eyes. Questions he refused to answer. It would serve no purpose to spill his guts to a woman who saw him as less than. Her hand reached for him. Avery almost leaned into it, he craved her touch that much. But not while pity surfed in her hazel eyes. He’d have none of it.
“Don’t,” he snarled and grabbed her hand.
“It’s…”Her voice wavered.
He held his breath, waiting for her to finish her sentence with any of the words on his personal list: ugly, grotesque, monstrous.
Huh? He hadn’t heard right.
“Your tattoo, it’s intricate and beautiful.” Her gaze caressed the swoops and swirls.
Suddenly, he wanted her to touch him, all of him, but that was not going to happen. “I did it to hide the scars. Didn’t work.” He’d never admitted that to anyone, even E.J.
Again, her hazel eyes filled with pity and her hand kept coming, as if he hadn’t ordered her not too. He was about to push her away when she veered to his face. His breath caught, stilled by the possibilities of the moment.
She traced his face with lazy fingers. Her almond-shaped eyes, fringed with long sooty lashes, were focused, intent on the torture she was inflicting on his flesh. A gleamed of interest sparked in their depths and a sultry smile tugged at the corners. Was he dreaming?
It had been more than twenty-four hours since he last closed his eyes for more than a few minutes. Dreams eluded him. Either he slept like the dead or nightmares chased him from a restful sleep. This was neither. This was a fantasy come true.
She touched at his arm and swept her thumb over the slight scar. “Your wound? It’s gone. Want to explain?”
He wanted to kiss her, part her soft pouty lips and taste her. Instead, he shrugged his shoulders. “Genetic anomaly. I heal fast.” He waited for more questions, but she cupped his face, rubbed her palm over his day old stubble. Desire stabbed his core, turning the darkness within him into a sea of need.
Take her. Take what you want. Spread her. Fuck her. Take. Take. The darkness whispered, taunted, and finally screamed. Avery balled his fists and kept them at his sides, anything to keep from humiliating himself. If only he could lock away his unending need for her, treat her as client and not the only woman who’d ever made his blood simmer.
If he could do that, then he could walk away, but a little bit of Emeline wouldn’t be enough. And if he couldn’t have it all, he’d rather have none. He had to leave.