MIRA STOPPED BREATHING. She stared up at Asher and saw the naked despair on his face, the desperation in his eyes. The blade was close to piercing his flesh now; all she had to do was apply pressure.
Yet she couldn’t move. She couldn’t do it.
“Stop it.” She heaved in a painful breath. “I won’t …”
“You will. You just threw a knife at me.”
“I don’t know why I did that,” she gasped. “I’m sorry.”
And she was—sorrier than he could possibly imagine. Shame and self-loathing flooded through her. She didn't think it was possible to hate herself more than she did at that moment.
His gaze still fused with hers, Asher slowly loosened his grip on her hand. Slowly, Mira lowered the blade. However, she did not re-sheathe it; instead the knife fell from her nerveless fingers, thumping onto the floor between them.
“Are you really that angry with me?” he murmured, his voice softer now. “Do you hate me that much?”
Mira stared back at him. There was no sufficient excuse she could give for what she had just done. She would make no excuses, but it was time she explained.
“I’ve been alone my whole life,” she whispered back. “Choices are easier that way. You just think about yourself … about getting your own needs met.” She paused here, before heaving in a breath. She was such a coward when it came to these matters. Her words felt clumsy, all wrong. “Meeting you changed everything.”
She swallowed. It was difficult to go on, but she forced herself. She'd come close to killing this man, and he deserved an explanation. “You’re the only person I’ve wanted to believe in … I wanted to trust you, Asher.”
Her vision swam as she finished these words, yet she didn’t break eye contact with him.
“And I betrayed your trust,” he finished her sentence for her.
“I hate you for that … but I hate myself more.”
His face turned hard, his silvery eyes burned. “Do you think I wanted all of this?” They stared at each other for a long moment before Asher dragged in a deep breath. “I’ve made an art form out of keeping others at arm’s length … until you.”
Mira’s heart leaped. She wet her lips, nervous. “Stop it … you don’t know what you’re saying. You hardly know me.”
“You think I’m lying?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time.”
She was about to continue, to remind him of all the lies he’d fed her since their first meeting, but she never got the words out. Asher’s mouth came down hard over hers, silencing her.
The kiss was brutal, claiming—and it drove all thoughts from Mira’s head. The world pivoted. For the past day, she’d been locked inside her own head, pursued by her demons, but now her body took control.
Her thoughts scattered, and her anger dissolved. The shock of the kiss made her tense for an instant, but a heartbeat later she responded to Asher with the same hunger.
Their tongues tangled, before she bit gently at his lower lip, a thrill going through her as he groaned. His taste, the feel of him pressed up against her, made her go weak. She felt as if she was falling.
Mira’s hands trembled as she fumbled at his clothing. She wanted him naked, needed to feel his skin against hers.
Asher pulled her hard against him, his hands untying her leathers. Her clothing fell away and thudded to the floor, along with her knives. Meanwhile, Mira had managed to open his leather vest, her hands sliding underneath his shirt.
It was cool inside the room, for the innkeeper's wife had not yet been upstairs to light the small hearths in each of the chambers. However, Mira didn't notice the chill. The feel of his hands, as they slid up her naked back, left a trail of aching fire in their wake.
Is this enchantment? She asked herself dully. It certainly felt as if he held her under some kind of spell. She didn’t care though. Her hunger for him had scattered her wits. She fumbled with the laces of his breeches, her mouth still locked with his.
The rest of their clothing fell to the floor, and they kicked off their boots.
Mira launched herself at Asher then, pressing the length of her naked body against his, entwining herself around him. He responded with the same violence, his hands tangling in her long hair. He pulled her head back so that he could kiss her neck. Mira shivered at the feel of his mouth moving down the line of her throat to the hollow at its base.
A heartbeat later, his mouth was on her breasts, drawing each tip into his mouth, suckling hard. Panting, Mira looked down. The injury to her left breast had almost completely healed, leaving only a few faint smudges on her skin. Her skin glowed pale in the lamplight. Groaning, she arched her back, pressing her breasts into Asher’s face.
In response he nipped gently at her nipple. Mira gasped, tangling her fingers in his hair.
He groaned her name and gathered her up against him. Two paces took them back to the narrow bed. They collapsed onto it, their limbs tangling, their mouths finding each other once more.
Mira couldn’t stop touching him. Her hands raked over the smooth, muscled plains of his chest down to his flat belly. There, she grasped the hard swollen length of him, gasping at the heat of his skin.
Asher growled out a curse; he was close to losing control.
Mira trailed her fingertips along the length of him, teasing. She longed to see this man’s self-control snap, to see Asher of the Light unravel.
Asher shifted between her thighs, parting them with his knee.
He rammed into her, seating himself fully with one thrust
Mira cried out. The feel of him filling her, claiming her, made her last shred of self-restraint snap.
She dug her nails into the columns of muscle either side of his spine and raised her hips to him, driving him deeper still.
Mira was lost. She wasn't sure where he began and she ended. She was barely aware of anything except the aching pleasure he’d aroused within her. He wasn't gentle, but then neither was she. Her fingers raked his back as he drove into her, their tongues warring with each thrust.
Mira had heard tales of passion that could transport you, could make the rest of the world disappear. However, she had secretly thought those stories to be exaggerations. Lust was merely an itch to be scratched. Asher proved her wrong—with him it was so much more. This was a union: body and soul.
Aching, shuddering pleasure exploded in her core, and Mira’s body shook uncontrollably. She gasped. She wasn't sure she could take much more of this; she could hardly bear it.
Yet Asher had no intention of stopping. He reached down, his hands gripping her buttocks, and angled himself deeper still. And when he did, he touched a place inside Mira’s womb that unleashed her completely.
Mira screamed. Wetness and heat exploded deep within her, and she arched back against the bed, letting the sensation sweep her away.
A moment later Asher cried out. The sound—raw and hoarse—echoed through the small chamber. He collapsed on top of her and together they lay, limbs tangled and trembling in the aftermath.
Asher heaved in a deep breath and rolled off Mira. His heart was racing so fast, he felt as if it would burst free of his chest. Sweat bathed his skin, and his body shook. Struggling to compose himself, he stared up at the low ceiling and the smoke-blackened beams. He drew in another deep breath, his vision blurring.
What’s wrong with me?
“Asher?”
He felt the bed shift as Mira rolled toward him. Her voice was breathless, although he caught the edge of concern in it.
“It’s alright,” he rasped, his gaze still fixed upon the ceiling. “Just a moment.”
“Asher.” Her voice was a low caress across his heated skin. “Look at me.”
He obeyed, struggling to regain control. It hurt to breathe. His gaze fell upon her—naked and languorous beside him—and his breathing hitched. He’d never seen anything so beautiful. Her body was strong, supple, and lush. Thick raven hair spilled over the covers, framing her flushed face. Her grey-blue eyes, which could be so hard and cold when she was angry, glistened as she watched him.
“Shadows,” she whispered, reaching out and tracing a line down the center of his chest. “I didn’t expect that.”
“Neither did I,” he admitted huskily. “You nearly stopped my heart, woman.”
She huffed. “It’s your own fault. You started it.”
He reached out, captured her hand in his, and brought it up to his lips. “I was rough. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
She shook her head.
He watched her, drinking her in. She held his gaze, her full mouth—swollen from his kisses—quirking. “What?”
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen … and the most lethal.”
Mira’s gaze clouded. “Sorry about the knife,” she murmured. “I need to do something about my temper.”
Asher smiled. “I probably deserved it.” Although his tone was light, a chill feathered across Asher’s skin as he remembered the moment she’d thrown that knife at him. She’d been so fast, he’d only just managed to deflect that blade.
She’d come very close to killing him.