It’s nearly impossible to resist him, to fight herself on a matter that anyone would find so trivial. Never before has she touched the opposite sex; it’s a mystery in her mind and a lust for her skin. She wants his warmth to spread across her like groping hands, but she also toys with the idea of being untouchable. They want her – Lior, Stillwater – and she wants them, but she refuses to be weak in the face of her temptations. Times like this are tests for her inner strength. Somehow, she is empowered when she reels away from him, leaving him cold and lonely underneath the summer sun. Of course, she notices the hungry flash in his eyes, but she glances away as to hide the smug grin that hesitantly quivers across her lips.
But she can’t look away for long.
She waits impatiently for his answer, her heart climbing into her throat. Their distance hides her quickening pulse just as her stony façade protects her worry for rejection. When he repeats that one heavy word – “oath,” he says with his breath hot – she levels her gaze onto his and listens. Perhaps it is drastic, but her trust in others is so minimal that she doesn’t even second guess her request. Instead, she holds herself steadily, unyielding to his scrutinizing eyes. ”I want to,” she murmurs uncertainly, ”but you are close to Naga, no?” The change of leadership had been too simple and Celeana too angry. She anticipates them to overthrow her and take her down in any way they can. Nayl, ever prepared, only wants to surround herself with those she can bring herself to trust and to carry her word as law. When she looks at Stillwater she remembers when they had opened up, but it wasn’t enough for her.
Will anything ever be enough for her?
There is a falter in her iced-over face when he regards the cave. She is haughty and expectant at first, but her eyes narrow when he admits his intentions – to do what he wants with whom he wants – and she hesitates. A lump forms in her throat that she forces down with a swallow. ”Fine,” her response is brusque, her fiery eyes hardening as she remembers to breathe. ”With whomever,” the repetition is bitter on her tongue and her lip almost curls in distaste before she stops it, ”so long as you remember your priorities.” In what way, she says not. The elaboration doesn’t come, only silence for a long moment as she looks at his damp coat then to the ocean in front of them.
”You would be a high-esteemed trusted friend in all my endeavors,” the word friend is foreign on her tongue as she has always eluded building any relationship to that degree, but there are three that she would allow to have pieces of her frigid heart. There are benefits for them, but she doesn’t sate his curiosity. Time will tell and grant those things if they are so fortunate. ”What else do you want besides your whore cave?” Ever eloquent in her ways.
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