Forged by Magic (Falling for Fables, #1)(53)

A couple of times, I offered to swap the bed for the sofa, but Rivelin firmly refused.

On the sixth night of all-day blacksmithing, I sat on the roof and tipped back my head to gaze up at the stars. There was a gentle breeze this evening, and there was a whisper of a chill in the air. I sighed and then breathed it in. Hard work felt good. I’d gone on a lot of missions for Isveig, but I’d never done physical labor quite like this.

The sky rumbled, a signal that rain was on its way. I hugged my arms to my chest and frowned, wishing I could have just a few more moments outside. But another rumble soon followed the first. Sighing, I moved to the ladder. Before I could make it back inside, big droplets of rain roared down from above.

I winced as the water made contact with my arms and cheeks. I’d only just healed from the lake. Gritting my teeth, I descended the ladder. Rivelin rushed out from the rear door of his shop—where he was still working—and tugged me inside, his face etched with concern.

He scanned me from head to toe, lingering on where my cheeks sizzled from the skyward attack. “How bad is it? Do I need to get some salt?”

I pressed my fingers to my cheek and winced. “I was only out there for a few moments. I’ve experienced far worse, as you well know.”

“Hmm.” He strode over to his worktable and flipped open a small trunk. A moment later, he returned to my side with a bag of salt, a bowl, and some dirt in his hands. “Have a seat. I’ll sort it out.”

I hopped up on the anvil, watching him pour a bit of salt in a bowl. “Where’d that bag come from? And the mud?”

“Swung by the alchemist’s yesterday when you were in the bath. Thought I should stock up on salt and keep some in here, just in case. Looks like I was right.”

My chest warmed as he dipped his fingers into the mixture and then spread the salve across my cheek. It didn’t even hurt anymore, but I didn’t have it in me to tell him, not when he was being so kind.

“You keep a special bag of salt in your forge for me.”

He set down the bowl beside me. “I don’t want my assistant to be hurt.”

I smiled. “Careful. At this rate, you won’t live up to your reputation of being a grumpy, insufferable bastard.”

“Best keep it to yourself, then,” he said in a low murmur. “How’s your cheek feeling now?”

“Better.”

“Have any other wounds that need tending?”

I shuddered as he dipped his fingers into the salve and then slid the mixture across a spot on my neck just below my ear. His touch was soft and gentle, and the steam from our contact erased any lingering pain, not that I would have been able to think of anything but the closeness of his body to mine.

My thighs spread instinctively, and without a word, he edged his body between them. Angling his head, he continued to rub the salt down the side of my neck, stopping only when he reached my collarbone. I held myself very still, scarcely daring to even breathe. My heart was rapturous thunder in my chest.

“How is that?” he asked.

“I…” A furious heat filled my cheeks. “I think a little rain may have gotten into my shirt.”

What in fate’s name was I doing? Rivelin was the enemy, except…he wasn’t. Not anymore. He never had been. He was an angry, grumpy bastard, but he was also inexplicably kind, courageous, and protective of his people. And he was not not handsome. In fact, he was extremely attractive, even more than all the other elves I saw here every day.

He moved his hand to my tunic and popped one of the buttons. A tremor went through me as his fingers moved to the next. I palmed the smooth steel of the anvil and hung on as if I were seconds away from plunging over the side of a cliff. If I fell, I’d never recover.

He reached the bottom button and stared so intently into my eyes that several seconds ticked by before I could breathe. There was a silent question in that look, a search for confirmation. Swallowing, I nodded.

With an almost feral glint in his eye, he snapped free the final button. The tunic fell open, and the warm air from the fire caressed my bare nipples. A muscle in Rivelin’s jaw tightened as he gazed down at me, his lips curling in wicked satisfaction.

“I see a spot that needs healing,” he murmured.

He dipped his fingers into the salve once more, then ran them along the curve of my cleavage. I tightened my grip on the anvil and struggled to stay still as he slowly stroked my breast, his touch more tantalizing than before. With darkening eyes, he continued to rub the spot where the rain had seemingly burned me, and then he swept his thumb across my peak.

A storm of pleasure engulfed me, and I bit my lip to keep from moaning.

“Oh, is that the right spot?” he asked in a deliciously sultry voice I’d never heard from him before.

“Mmm hmm. That’s one of them, yes,” I managed to say.

He dragged his thumb across my swollen nipple, and despite my every attempt to remain still, I arched against him. Sudden need clenched my thighs, tightening around his hips. He edged a little closer, and something hard pressed against my core.

“I think I need a closer inspection,” he said roughly.

He cupped my breast, leaned in, and stroked his tongue across my peak. I couldn’t contain my moan. It spilled from my throat as I reached out and dug my fingernails into his arm. The steam was a hazy fog now, so thick I could see nothing but Rivelin’s face and those bright, brilliant eyes that lit up the dark.