Page 9 of Soulgazer

I feel nothing. I want nothing. I am nothing.

It doesn’t work. To my left, a woman rubs catlike against a man before her, both their arms sliding against mine. Her indifference and spite take root in my gut. Before me, the couple arguing drunkenly over my costume bump into my chest—releasing irritation and lust in their wake.

I drop the amulet, reeling back from the weight of all these souls crushing mine.

“Blue tit!”

They need to go—no,Ineed to get away. There are too many of them. I can’t bear it—can’tbreathe.

“Sparrow, you bastard!”

It’s all coming undone. Everything I’ve tried to contain, splitting at the seams.

I am seconds away from curling over myself as tight as I can go when a hand suddenly catches mine. Calloused fingers press into my palm, lifting my arm high and away until my sleeve unfurls like a sail, dozens of blue-green linen feathers rippling between us.

“Clever thing. You’re a magpie, aren’t you?”

His voice is a rough caress of salt-stained silk, drawing tight over my bare flesh. Chills bite down my spine as sweet, empty promises coil deep in my belly, lifting the delicate hairs along my nape. I breathe, and the frantic crash of my heart becomes the steady hum of waves pouring in, and out.

In. Out.

Let it out.

“You caught my eye earlier, but I half think you might’ve stolen my heart as well.” His finger slides along my jaw, coaxing my face to the side with an aching, terrifying familiarity. “Be a dear and give it back?”

It is a lover’s touch. And a stranger’s. I shouldn’t look, but, stars spare me, I can’t help myself. My eyes snap open, and I see—

Wild.

The man before me is made of wild—nearly feral with it. His face is made of defined angles softened only by a beard, uneven sprays of freckles ending at the corner of his mouth. It twists with laughter, his eyes singing the same pattern amid deep currents of blue. Twin daggers rest in leather sheaths strapped to either hip, topped with intricate, carved bronze wolves. And there is the tail, peeking round the edge of his thigh.

It’shim. The Wolf.

I feel the truth ripple in a hum across my skin.

“Well?” The man taps my bottom lip with his thumb; I nearly take it between my teeth. It’s wrong—sowrong—to keep still for fear his touch will fall away. Every instinct tells me to lean in, nuzzle and lick. Beg for scraps of affection after seven years without a single ounce.

I have never felt such a ferocious want—not one that belongs solely to me.

My gaze falls to his smirking mouth, and it widens at once.

“If it was a kiss from the Wandering Wolf you were trying to steal, love…”

A kiss. Is that what I want?

The answer is a devouring roar, consuming every scrap of fear hosted within my blood.Heis the only thing that makes sense in this storm of sensation, blotting out the rest of the world with the sheer force of his presence. Something foreign—something primal—urges me onto my toes past any sense of reason or the instinct to shy away. And though a splinter of ice attempts to pierce through the drunken waves of desire, an echo of the amulet’s mark, it’s a weak effort. Easy to ignore.

I’ve craved touch for far too long.

The Wolf’s hands drop to my waist as mine flutter in the air between us, unsure of where to land—until he raises a single brow. His bemusement spikes through the sticky heat of my mind.

“Darling, I’m afraid that’s not how you—”

I bury my hands in the pirate’s hair and crush my mouth to his.

A mistake.

Ohgods, I’ve made a mistake.