The Claimed: A Clash of Copper and Gold

Chapter 26: Negotiations

I flipped back the deerskin flap over the entrance to my lodgings and swept a palm out to invite Niako through first. He snorted a derisive laugh and rolled his eyes at me.

"Are you always so chivalrous before bedding someone?"

The mug of slurg still warmed my veins, and the sight of him ducking into my room and plopping down on the mattress scorched through me. The lantern light softened his visage and illuminated individual strands of hair escaping his shiny black coils.

I followed him in and let the flap drop behind me. "Are you always so unappreciative of your lovers' efforts?"

He lifted one brow, and his lips quirked. "Don't tell me you're surprised."

At that moment, the urge to crawl on top of him and kiss away his arrogance almost overwhelmed me. But I knew the Niako who feared touch remained beneath his brazen facade. So instead of approaching, I gripped the bottom of my tunic and stripped it off over my head.

And Niako's arrogance fled as quickly as his breath.

I tossed the tunic aside without taking my eyes off Niako. His gaze darkened as he appraised my chest and arms. I watched him fight for control of his breath, control of his voice. When he started to speak, his voice broke.

I raised my eyebrows and stepped forward. "What was that? I didn't hear you."

He huffed a laugh and shook his head. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone like you."

I could feel the smugness in my own smile. Niako definitely had not looked at Sakap like this. But I swallowed my own satisfaction so I could speak delicately.

"Can I see you?"

Niako sat up and began to peel off his shirt in a stilted, unsteady motion. I trotted forward and dropped to a crouch before him.

"I forgot about your shoulder. Let me help."

"I'm fine," he said, voice muffled by the tunic stuck halfway over his head.

He shimmied out of the fabric and dropped it to the mattress beside him, and the light playing across his flawless skin captivated me. His own gaze was trapped on my chest, now a mere foot from his own. He lifted a hand to trail a single finger over my pectoral and then down to my abdomen.

Apart from an involuntary shiver, I held still, allowing him to continue the exploration. His fluttering fingers were light and inquisitive, but his eyes followed the movement with a quiet reverence. After a minute, his right hand slipped over the top of my shoulder and began to slide down my back... and then he froze.

I knew what he felt.

Scars.

He jerked his hands back to his sides. "Imagine you could stop being chivalrous for a moment. What would you like to do to me?"

Something in his voice worried me, but his expression appeared neutral. I let my eyes fall to the sleek dark skin and lean muscles of his exposed chest.

"I would like to touch you."

He lowered himself back to his elbows, watching me watch him. "Then touch me."

Each of his movements and words tugged me in deeper, but my nerve endings all tingled the way they did before a swordfight — a fight I was not sure I could win. I dragged my gaze up from his chest to his eyes.

"Touch you where?"

"Anywhere."

Cautiously, I traced the smooth skin around the edge of the bandage on his shoulder. Then I dipped over the hollow above his collarbone and ran my fingers down his lightly-haired chest. As I laid my palm flat just below the bandage, I felt his thumping heart, his uneven breath, and his flexed muscles. And when I glanced up at his face, I saw the strain in his eyes and the determination in his clenched jaw.