"W-why are you here? You should go," I stumble through my breathy, husky words.
He cocks an eyebrow. "You called me here."
I blink. "I did not."
"Melisa, I heard you say my name,” he insists.
A bolt of pleasure shoots across me, and I step out of the way.
His movements are calculated and swift. He takes up every inch of the room, sucking all of the air out of my lungs. His presence pulls me into the space between 'yes' and 'wait.'
Instead, I say, "It's a mess in here. I was given chores."
I give myself a moment to stand there waiting for whatever sweet surprise he has waiting in that purposeful look.
He falls to his knees. Those eyes haunt me, swallowing all of the surroundings and refusing to let me look away.
My chest rises. His jaw flexes, and his nostrils widen.
"You're still bleeding."
I nod, even though every man I've ever known is disgusted by such things.
“And you ache for me. I can feel it through our bond." His eyes flutter closed. Then they open and lock back onto my face. "Won't this hurt?"
My mouth parts at his boldness, and his eyes snap down to watch my lips.
“I—”
My neck goes hot.
All of the dreams, the attempts at seduction. Is this really going to be the moment when I turn shy?
"Giants and humans don't touch women when they bleed. They think us unclean."
"I'm not a giant, and I know of no hunter deterred by a bit of blood," he retorts.
"You are a stone bender."
"I can be whatever you need tonight," he says. "We have been through this—I see you. I know your thoughts. You cannot hide from me as you wish. I came because you need me."
My breath hitches, and my core hums. When he says it like this, the sense of fighting flows away. This was what I wanted—to have him so thoroughly wrapped around my finger that he'd never leave.
Reason and want war within me, but instead, I reach up and pull at the string that cinches the gown around my shoulders and keeps it from falling. As the fabric loosens and slips off of my skin, I take a deep breath.
His hand moves before his thoughts, pausing a mere second before touching me.
"May I?"
I grasp onto his hand with both of mine and press it to my breast, gasping. My skin breaks out in flames.
He growls and pulls me onto his lap, burying his nose into the side of my neck. He inhales deeply and then lets out a satisfied noise.
“Will you let your mate claim you?” his voice thrums.
I freeze. Will I?
All the time I spent fighting for this moment, and now I'm unsure? Men don't like rejection.