soft. The delicateness of her cheeks was only emphasized by the brutish strength of his callused fingers.
He could tear her apart??/p>
Instead he only wanted to kiss her.
How very strange. In truth, he didn't like these odd feelings inside him. He had never been a kind man or a kind child. He'd always believed in striking the first blow before it was delivered to him. Better to stun his opponents so that when they struck their blow it would be less forceful. Less painful.
He knew of kindness only from watching other people receive it. And that had made him even more bitter. More cruel. Why should other people have something he'd always been denied? What had been so wrong with him as a child that no one could ever look at him with fondness in their eyes? Or gently touch him?
In time, he'd convinced himself that he didn't need kindness or fondness.
Now, he no longer even wanted it.
"Gift??or you."
Her pain-filled words echoed in his head. What gift had been worth almost dying for?
Curiosity got the better of him. Sealing her door to make sure she didn't leave the room again and find danger, he returned to the hall, where he saw the dark red cloth on the floor.
There was no sign of Blaise, who had most likely retired to his rooms.
Wiping the blood from his hand on his armor before he reached for it, Kerrigan retrieved the cloth from the floor. He held it up to see a tunic that was obviously designed for a man. One that was made of tiny, delicate stitches.
Thoughtful, handmade stitches.
Something inside him shattered. And that made him angry. How dare she make him feel like this! No doubt that was her intention. She would ply him with kindness until she had him tamed and mastered. Until he fed from that delicate hand of hers as she led him about by his nose.
Fuck that. He was no woman's pawn. He bowed before no one. Ever.
Balling the tunic into his fist, he moved toward the fire. But as he started to toss it in, he paused.
The cloth was so soft against his skin. It was her precious cloth that she had wept over. Cloth that had meant everything to her. Why would she give it over to him? He would never give up something he held in such regard to another for any reason.
Burn it!
To keep it would make him weak. It would give her sovereignty over him. It would leave his heart open.
And still he couldn't make himself throw it into the flames.Do it! The words echoed forcefully through his mind over and over again.
Closing his eyes, he brought the cloth to his face. Seren's scent clung to the fabric. That woodsy rose smell filled him with a desire so raw, so potent that it was all he could do not to return to her.
Instead he did something he hadn't done in countless centuries. He melted his black steel cuirass from him and pulled off the black tunic he wore beneath it. He replaced the black wool with the scarlet tunic and hissed at the softness of the fabric against his skin. It was as gentle as the brush of a fey's wings.
And it smelled of Seren.
He ran his hand over the perfect material. It fit him as if she'd had his measurements. His little mouse was certainly talented. Her work was without fault.
"Thank you, Seren," he whispered in the silence of the hall, knowing that he would never be able to say those words aloud to her. Only a weak-kneed milksop would ever thank someone.
He felt the heat inside him build as he summoned his armor back onto his body. He would keep her gift, but no one would ever know it.
Not even Seren.
Seren came awake with a start. She was stabbed! Her heart hammering, she waited to feel the painful throb that had burned like fire in her stomach.
But there was no pain to be felt.
Was she dead?
Terrified, she opened her eyes to find herself alone in her bed. She was beneath the heavy covers, and bright sunlight was spilling in from the open windows.
Had she dreamed it? She looked to the floor where the remnants of her sewing was still exactly where she'd left it. The thread, the shears, the scraps of cloth??/p>
Nay, Kerrigan had stabbed her. She was sure of it.
Frowning, she pushed the covers back, then hesitated at the sight of her new cream gown.
Kerrigan had been here. After he'd stabbed