The Enchanting Rapture (#1)

Chapter 10

Soren

Soren was shocked. In his entire lifetime, not one creature had offered their aid to him, even if he was beaten to a bloody pulp, not unless there was a heavy pouch of gold on his hip. It was just another common detail in Soren's life he resented.

But there Annika was, offering a helping hand as though it were simple and indisputable. The concern in her eyes was unquestionable. She honestly wished to help, and Soren had no idea how the hell to react.

A reverence for Annika bloomed in one swift motion. How could it not? He had tried so damn hard to keep a distance from her, but when she committed acts such as then, Soren's will bent voluntarily. He had been ensnared from the start.

When she raised her eyebrows in prompt, Soren realized he had been gazing at her for a while. He cleared his throat and swiftly removed his cloak and shirt. The cool mist hugged immediately to the moist surface of his naked skin. A mild breeze swept around him like a tendril of smoke, pulsing against him almost feverishly.

Soren knew his subtle scars were exposed in the increasing daylight, but he had come to terms with the thinly ripped up flesh scattered across his upper back, shoulder to shoulder. They were caused by Zyhed, who had punished Soren for his own sick agenda. Each time Soren would rebel against his training, Zyhed would become delirious and infuriated in a way only madmen were familiar with.

Baring himself was not something Soren was ashamed of. Soren's life had no room for modesty, not even then for Annika. He was not changing bodies anytime soon, so it only made sense that he adjusted to the one he was born with.

Annika's gaze skimmed along his pale complexion, leaving a trail of molten lust. Being so near in proximity, Soren was able to scent the beginnings of her lovely arousal. It only added to the constant need he had for her raging in his body. His fierce desire brought his blood to a painful sizzle, searing right through any layers of objection. Not only did Soren want to feel his masculine rigidness against her naturally soft curves, he itched to see her smile, to make her feel things Soren himself was alien to.

Annika's exquisite eyes were so vibrant compared to Soren's black pits as they looked at each other. Just peering into those enthralling orbs of blues transported him to the middle of the erratically swishing sea during a dark and stormy day. He could have sworn there was a flash of lightening that gave her eyes that otherworldly glimmer.

The trees flared out around her gorgeous profile, hues of green and brown entirely complimenting against her pale and silken skin. Wild life moved with a racing speed, trying to impress their guest, Annika. Pieces of her inky strands stuck out, drying from the previous onslaught of rain. She was absolutely flawless.

Keeping eye contact, Soren said, "it's buried in the back of my arm." Had they stayed in that heated stare-off any longer, heated things were guaranteed to happen.

"Right!" Annika exclaimed before coming forward. Without thought, she placed her delicate hand on his shoulder. The much wanted touch pulled a low hiss from Soren. Annika immediately apologized.

"Just pull it out quickly," Soren muttered as he turned his stare away. Soren would be prompted to kiss those perfect lips, to caress her soft curves, to teach her what kind lover he really was if he watched her another second. Just the thought made his body bulge with raw lust.

"Soren," she gasped out, "it's shot in pretty deeply, are you sure I should just pull it out?"

He nodded. "It'll heal by next nightfall, it is not that far in, it's merely a flesh woun-" Soren growled at the random shot of pain. He looked over at a guilty looking Annika who was holding a bloodied arrowhead between her thumb and forefinger. Her eyes were wide, beautiful. Soren did something monumental... he smiled. It just happened, almost like an accident, but it felt blissful.