Page 85 of Wolf of Ashes
“Why would you need to ‘do something’ about your virginity?”
Oh, fuck, I was sure he was asleep.
I stare back at him, taking in his fiery eyes. Their color is just like the hints of bronze I saw in his irises when we were discussing the nature of our enemies.
His features are completely smooth, his expression more tightly controlled than I’ve ever seen. I’d like to think that this face he wears now is more peaceful, but far from it, it feels more volatile.
I blink at him and make myself focus on his question. “Virginity is a liability I don’t need.”
He considers me calmly. “Why would the experience of your vagina—or rather, the absence of experience—define anything about you?” The corners of his lips rise. “My hands have never held a rose. Does that make me any less than I am?”
The fact that he’s so certain he’s never held a rose makes me wary. He can’t remember his past. Yet this voice he speaks with now carries conviction, as if he’s telling the truth.
“Sex is different.” I scowl. “Sex is about power and control.”
He doesn’t look convinced. “My hand has both.”
Power and control.
He adds: “Despite all of the things I’ve never done with it.”
I dare to brush my fingertips across his lips, curious when he barely reacts to my touch.
It dawns on me that he may not really be awake right now…
I relax a little.
“So… if I told you I wanted to fuck you,” I say, “and I mean a full-oncock and vaginafuck, you wouldn’t do it?”
His smile grows. “If you wanted me to, I would fuck you in every way a woman can be fucked, but my goal would be to give you pleasure. Your heart tells me that isn’tyourgoal.”
Dammit.My disappointment now is caused not so much by the fact that he can tell exactly how I’m feeling, or even that he will always have that power, but that a little pit has opened up within me.
It’s small.
I tell myself I can ignore it.
I really can.
But it wasn’t there before. Now that it exists, there’s a very real possibility that it might never go away.
I remind myself that I’m a dark creature. I care only about spilling my enemies’ blood. Even if it takes me a lifetime to cut to the bone.
It doesn’t matter how many empty pits open up within me along the way.
I’m grateful there’s a chance he’s talking to me in his sleep, and in a form he’s never taken when he’s awake, because chances are he won’t remember this conversation tomorrow.
Just as my jaw clenches and I prepare to turn away from him, he reaches across the distance.
His palm glides over my cheek and into my hair as he pulls me back to him.
His lips touch mine, warm and full against my mouth, a kiss so deep that it sends a burn to my toes and makes my thighs clench all over again.
When he pulls back, he doesn’t say anything. Just closes his eyes, his arm still entwined with mine.
His breathing deepens again, but I’m left staring at him and trying to process the way he kissed me without reserve.
Soft…
