Page 31 of Cursed By the Dawn

Just enough to be clothed, but not so much that it took away from the experience.

I drifted toward the stone ledge that surrounded the pool, letting my body float until I could brace myself. In the dimness, I couldn’t see any dreamers, but the height was staggering. Erebus and I were suspended over the entire domain, cradled in the sky.

From behind me, Erebus’s long legs began cutting through the water in effortless strides.

“There you are,” he murmured, reaching for my arms. His hands froze when he realized they were bare. A breath later and he was stumbling back as if he had been struck by a bolt of lightning. “You’re—I’m sorry, I didn’t realize,” he stammered, flustered.

I rose on my toes to face him, and his eyes dipped down.

“I’m still dressed,” I insisted, gesturing to my chemise. “See?”

“Hardly.” The word was strangled. Pointed.

I glanced down at myself. My arms and legs were bare, and the thin fabric clung to my chest. And I was sure my wet hair looked like serpents upon my shoulders, curling down my back. It wasn’t much in the way of modesty.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, sinking back into the water.

Was I sorry? Or just embarrassed he reacted the way he did?

Erebus sidled next to me on the ledge, not quite touching me.

“My surprise was not meant to embarrass you,” he said through gritted teeth. As if he was choking on something. “I only expected to feel your armor. Not your skin.”

“I’ve never seen people bathe with their clothes on,” I said defensively, giving his obsidian arms a meaningful glance.

He exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. “They don’t. But I wasn’t expecting…” He cut himself off, dragging a hand through his hair. His gaze flickered back to me, dark and unreadable, before snapping away just as quickly.

The water lapped at my chin, warm and weightless, but his presence made it feel somehow heavier. I resisted the urge to shift closer, to see if he would flinch again—or if he would stay.

“I didn’t mean to startle you. I just thought…”

What had I thought? That he wouldn’t care? That he would simply join me without a second thought?

Erebus let out a low, breathy laugh—though there was no amusement in it. “You thought what, Esmer?” His voice had dropped to something lower, rougher, as if he was wrestling with himself. “That I would sit here beside you, unbothered? That I wouldn’t notice you? That I would touch your bare skin and be unaffected?”

Oh.

My stomach twisted at his words. At the heat in them.

“I notice everything about you,” he muttered.

I swallowed hard, a shiver rippling down my spine. “Then stop acting like you don’t,” I challenged.

Understanding my look, he drew back his gauntlets, revealing large, slender hands. Then his chest plate, shirt, and cape melted, sliding from his body in long smoky tendrils. I admired his skin, his back, his arms. The way the water glistened down his broad shoulders and muscled chest. How his white hair looked like wet snow when damp. My gaze dipped down, and I faintly wondered if he really had taken offeverything—but I hastily pressed my face into my forearms, cheeks burning, before I allowed myself to find out.

I really needed to calm down.

“Do you see why I took my armor off now?” I asked, trying not to fixate on how the water lapped against his bare skin. “This feels amazing, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” he agreed, dragging his hands through the water in a slow caress. As if he’d never taken the chance to really enjoy the sensation of water on his skin. Then he continued, voice darkening as he beheld our domain, “You know, Esmer, if it weren’t for you, I would have rejected my role as Weaver as soon as it was thrust upon me. Tonight’s reception was proof of that.” In the stillness of the night, some of my hair brushed against his arm, tickling it. “All I’ve ever wanted in my life was freedom. Freedom to create. Freedom to choose. Freedom to want something for myself.” He turned sideways, regarding me seriously—and with adelicious bite ofneedthat I relished. “And to one day, perhaps, be wanted in return.”

Shadows threaded around us, as if they desperately wanted us to collide.

“Isn’t that what being a Weaver means, though? We have the freedom to create. To choose our paths and grow in our power.” Hesitantly, I touched Erebus’s arm, trailing my fingers across his pale skin. “To want and be wanted.”

“What is it thatyouwant, Esmer?” he asked, his voice reduced to a low rumble.

Something fluttered deep in my stomach at the velvety pitch of his voice. It felt like a dare.