It was the way I’d met the Duke’s stare and smiled at him when I’d been unveiled.
It was when I’d spoke to Loren for the first time, and when I went out to the Rise. My evolution kept me quiet as the Duke delivered his lessons, and when I sliced Lord Mazeen’s arm and hand and head from his body, I’d been cutting through the chains I never chose to wear. I just hadn’t realized it then. There were so many little steps over the years and especially in recent weeks. I didn’t know when it had finally happened, but I knew one thing for certain.
Hawke wasn’t the catalyst.
He was the reward.
I lifted my surprisingly steady hands to the sash. I didn’t look away as I undid the knot. The robe parted and then slipped over my shoulders. I let it puddle at my feet.
Hawke didn’t look away for one second. He didn’t even blink as he stared at me, his eyes locked to mine. Slowly, his gaze traveled the length of my body. I knew there was enough light for him to see everything. All the dips and swells, the shadowy, hidden areas, and all the scars. The jagged tears on my arms and across my stomach, and the ones on my legs that looked like wounds from sharp nails but were proof that I had been chosen by the gods.
Because those marks on my legs weren’t from claws but from fangs that had ripped into my skin. I’d been bitten that night.
But I was not cursed.
Hawke wouldn’t see the truth in those scars. Two of those who knew were now gone, and only the Queen and King, the Duchess, and my brother knew now. For the first time in my life, I wanted to tell someone the truth behind them. I wanted to tell Hawke.
But now was not the time for that.
Not when his gaze was slowly tracking back to mine. Not when he was looking at me as if he were soaking in every inch of me. I couldn’t help but shiver when his eyes finally met mine.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he whispered, his voice thick. “And so damn unexpected.”
Then he moved in that way that always made it hard to believe he wasn’t an Ascended. In a heartbeat, I was in his arms, and his mouth was on mine. There was nothing slow and sweet about the way he kissed me. It was like being devoured, and I wanted that. I kissed him back, holding onto him tightly, and just when I felt the touch of his tongue against mine, he pulled away.
Things became a blur then. His tunic came off with my help, and then his boots, and his breeches. I trembled at the first sight of him.
He was…beautiful.
All sun-kissed skin and long, lean muscles. His chest and stomach were defined by years of training, and there was no mistaking the power and strength of his body. There was also no mistaking how his life had left its imprint behind in the form of faint nicks and longer scars on his flesh. He was a fighter like I was, and now I truly saw what I’d been too nervous to notice before. His body was also a record of everything he’d survived, and the deeper, redder scar just below his hip on his upper thigh was proof that he likely had his own nightmares. It looked like a brand of some sort, as if something hot and painful had been pressed into his skin.
“The scar on your thigh,” I asked. “When did you get it?”
“Many years ago, when I was dumb enough to get caught,” he answered.
It was so weird how he sometimes talked as if he’d lived dozens of years longer than I was sure he had. I knew that, for some, a year could feel like a lifetime. My gaze strayed, and my eyes widened.
Oh, my.
I bit down on my lip, knowing I probably shouldn’t stare. It seemed indecent to do so, but I wanted to.
“You keep looking at me like that, and this will be over before it starts.”
Cheeks heating, I dragged my gaze away. “I…you’re perfect.”
His expression tightened. “No, I’m not. You deserve someone who is, but I’m too much of a bastard to allow that.”
I shook my head, unsure how he couldn’t see that he was deserving. “I disagree with everything you just said.”
“Shocker,” he said, and then he curled his arm around me.
In a heartbeat, I was on the bed, and he was above me, the rough hair of his legs abrasive against mine in the most surprising, pleasant way. But the feel of him against my hip caused a nervous swallow, and also brought a reminder of a very real consequence that could come from this.
“Are you—？”
“Protected?” His thoughts obviously following the same path as mine. “I take the monthly aid.”
He was talking about the herb that rendered both males and females temporarily infertile. It could be drunk or chewed, and I heard that it tasted like sour milk.