denying her. He stared at her, needing her to see that he wanted to kiss her, that he wanted nothing more than it.
But he didn’t want to hurt her.
Right now, she was weak, recovering from her resurrection, and he feared that no matter how hard he tried, he wouldn’t be able to keep the kiss gentle enough that it didn’t hurt her. He had thought he had been doing the right thing, but the way she looked at him with a flash of fire in her eyes made him feel he couldn’t have made a worse move.
She shirked his touch and wrapped her arms around herself as she walked away from him, her steps unsteady, and cold stole through him as the distance between them grew. When he couldn’t bear it anymore, he strode towards her, swiftly closing that distance.
She didn’t look at him as he fell into step beside her, as he warred with himself, torn between wrapping his arm around her again to support her and doing something else, something he hoped would show her that he was beginning to care about her.
That he wanted her.
He slipped his hand into hers.
She jerked her head up, her gaze colliding with his, a stunned look on her face that quickly faded as she looked down at their hands. Her soft smile stole his heart, had the ache to kiss her growing stronger.
And he would.
As soon as they were alone, he was going to kiss her like there was no tomorrow.
Chapter 13
The vampire had been merciful, something Mackenzie hadn’t been expecting since the main mansion in the sprawling complex of warm yellow buildings that formed the very Italian-looking bastion of the First Legion had Latin carved above the arched entrance.
A motto that read Nulla Misericordia.
No Mercy.
Rather than insisting they discuss the witch immediately, Grave had dispatched guards to the wall and had insisted Mackenzie follow a female servant up to a room on the second floor. The pretty blonde had been all smiles as she had led the way, as she had offered to have a bath drawn for her and had shown her around the elegant eggshell-blue room that was her temporary cage.
Being parted from Hartt had left Mackenzie on edge and she had ended up bluntly turning down the bath, something she regretted now that she was alone, standing before a roaring fire and wishing she were enjoying a nice, long soak to ease her tired muscles.
She hated resurrecting.
It always left her skin feeling too tight, made her irritated for days and made her bones feel achy.
Mackenzie paced away from the enormous white marble fireplace, the wooden floorboards creaking in places as she crossed the spacious room to the four-poster double bed. She sank onto the dark blue covers with a sigh and immediately wanted to stand again. Restlessness was another annoying side-effect of being reborn. She wanted to sleep for days but had far too much energy all at the same time.
She huffed, flopped back onto the bed, and remembered that she was lacking clothing as the oversized black tunic she wore rode up and cool air kissed her thighs. She tugged it down.
Really tugged it down as a soft knock sounded.
Her senses reached out, attempting to identify who was on the other side of the door, but only a jumbled mess came back to her. She hated that too. It would be days before she could pick out things with her senses without them just mashing everything she could feel together into one blob.
“Come in,” she said, a little too cautiously judging by how slowly the door opened.
She leaned to her left, wondering if it was the servant returned to offer her another bath. If it was, Mackenzie would probably snap her arm off.
“You decent?” Hartt’s deep voice curled around her, instantly relaxing her.
Who needed to soak in a tub? Not her, apparently. She just needed to hear the dulcet tones of her enemy-turned-ally.
“I am.” She sat up and smoothed the tunic down, tugging it so it almost covered her knees. Maybe she should have asked the servant for some clothes at least. Even just some panties would have been fine.
She was too aware of the fact she was naked beneath the tunic as the door swung open and Hartt strode into the room wearing only his black armour. Those damned rumours about elf armour were right. It hugged everything.
He looked down at himself, paused and frowned. Suddenly, clothing appeared on him—a top similar to the tunic