Page 24 of Blood Skye (Skye Druids #6)

Chapter Twenty-Four

Song flopped onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. She had tossed and turned for hours but she couldn’t find sleep. Her mind wouldn’t shut down. Worse , it seemed to be stuck on one thing: Carlyle .

She couldn’t stop thinking about the way his body had felt against hers. How his large hands had covered hers. How he had enveloped her.

It had been an amazing experience, and she kept reliving it in her memories.

She tried to stop thinking about the encounter and think of other things, but her mind kept returning to the auburn-haired man and his mesmerizing turquoise eyes.

She shouldn’t be having such thoughts about Carlyle . He was a means to an end. That was all.

Why , then, did she wonder what it might be like to wind her arms around his neck and pull his head down for a kiss? For him to hold her tight. Maybe lean her back over his arm and kiss down her neck. She groaned in frustration and yanked the pillow from under her head to throw over her face.

Song had been trained to seduce, flirt. Entice . She had numerous tricks to use on unsuspecting individuals the elders had chosen. None of them were for her enjoyment or pleasure. They had all been in service to the organization and a way to keep Jai alive. She had kept all her wants and dreams closely guarded for so long that she didn’t know how to let them out.

Or act on them.

She studied people. She watched them wherever she went. The arguments, the liaisons, the cool detachment. From the confident to the panicky, the gregarious to the nervous, she had seen every variation there was. She could enter a room and immediately know whether she should be a damsel in distress, a femme fatale, or something in between.

Yet nothing in her training told her what to do with someone like Carlyle . Or how to handle the strange—yet interesting—feelings developing. Part of her wanted to explore what was happening. Something away from London , something not dictated by them.

But the other part of her, the one that cautioned reason, told her to push all of that away. Said she needed to stand firm and detached. If she gave in to the emotions, it might cost her Jai and the freedom that awaited them both.

Song fluffed her pillow and returned it to under her head. She blinked up at the ceiling, images of what Carlyle might look like without clothes filling her mind.

Carlyle stared up at the clear night sky. The rocking of the boat had always been a surefire way to put him to sleep. But not that night.

He had chosen to bed down beneath the stars for two reasons: because he enjoyed it and also because it allowed him to react quickly if anyone came aboard. He had his hands intertwined over his stomach, and his head rolled to the side to look at where Song had stood fishing. Where he had wrapped himself around her.

Carlyle had acted without thinking. Even now, he was surprised that she hadn’t shoved him away. Nor had she made any comments about him being so near. Perhaps he was overthinking. She must have been focused on learning and hadn’t even noticed him.

He wished he could say the same about her. When her arse had rubbed against his crotch, he had gone instantly, painfully hard. He had wanted to grab her hips and hold her. He should’ve backed away. Instead , he lingered, letting the swaying of the boat and Song’s movements tease and tantalize until he was dizzy with lust.

But that was all it was. It had to be simply that his body ached for release. After all, there had been too much happening on Skye for him to find a willing bed partner. Then he went searching for his father. Sex had been the last thing on his mind until Song’s fine ass. Or the feel of her against him.

Or her smile that, even now, had the power to snatch his breath.

Carlyle scrubbed both hands down his face before he sighed and rested his arms by his sides. Song was… What ? He had been able to categorize her when she was the enemy before he understood her past. Learning about her sister and what the elders had done gave him another piece of her complex puzzle. Yet it also opened up many other questions.

They were supposed to trust each other. Enemies with a mutual nemesis.

But was she still the enemy? She had been coerced and forced by London . There could be an argument that everyone had the option of making their own decisions, but he knew that wasn’t always true. Her sister’s life for someone else’s. Had London given him that same choice regarding Mabel or his father—hell, even Mason and his family— Carlyle would’ve done whatever the elders wanted.

He’d be a hypocrite to blame Song for doing what he would have in her shoes.

But if she was no longer his foe, what was she? He recalled the way her dark eyes had sparkled with delight. Even how she beamed from the small praises he gave her. Had she been deprived of such trifling things most took for granted? He was afraid of what the answer might be.

Carlyle sighed and returned to staring at the heavens. But there was no stopping his thoughts and their sexual nature, each of them involving Song . He palmed his cock and adjusted himself.

He would be in close quarters with her for another few days. It was the only tranquil time they would have. He should be planning his attack and thinking of all the different ways London might come at him.

Carlyle rolled onto his side and closed his eyes, even as he knew he’d find Song in his dreams.

Song stepped out of the bath as the water drained. She dried off and did her best not to get her stitches too wet, but it had felt wonderful to wash her hair and body. She heard Carlyle moving about in the kitchen as she wrapped a towel around her and walked to the basin.

She looked at the woman staring back at her in the mirror. She didn’t normally look too long into her own eyes. She never liked seeing the past deeds and dark knowledge that lurked there. Song wasn’t sure why she looked today. She ran her fingers through her wet hair before pushing on her cheeks. Next , she ran her index finger along her eyebrows. She turned her head to the side for a different view of her nose before staring ahead and puckering her lips.

Who was she?

A simple question most could answer. But she couldn’t. She knew who London wanted her to be. She was given an allowance and spent it on luxury items. But were they items she wanted? Or what was expected?

She chose dark and neutral colors to wear because they didn’t stand out. Usually solids, but sometimes thin pinstripes. Never bold prints. She wore heels because she was told to, but hated how they pinched her toes. She’d once purchased a pair of chunky heels and wore them to a meeting with the elders. The next day, they were gone from her closet. No explanation. Nothing . Just gone.

Song looked down at her feet. She lifted her toes before curling them into the rug. Who was she? What did she like?

She liked to fish. And she liked the water. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

A Sammy Davis Jr . song reached her through the door. The music was pleasant, but it was more about the man who’d chosen it. Song mentally shook herself. She brushed her teeth before combing her hair, then turned in an attempt to see her wound in the mirror.

She sighed, realizing she had no choice but to ask Carlyle for help in changing the bandage. Song rewrapped the towel around her body, making sure it wouldn’t come undone, then walked to the door. She grasped the handle but didn’t immediately turn it. Instead , she listened as Carlyle softly sang along to the song.

After a deep, fortifying breath, she opened the door. Carlyle had a towel over his shoulder as he chopped something. He glanced up at her and did a double take, the knife paused in midair. Slowly , he set the blade down and straightened.

“ Everything all right?”

The first thing she noticed was that he had shaved. She had slept so fitfully that when she finally drifted off, she slept like the dead, not hearing him in the bathroom until he was finishing up. The sleeves of his denim shirt were rolled up on his forearms, and his black jeans hugged his narrow hips. His turquoise eyes seemed brighter than usual.

“ Everything’s fine,” she answered. “ I can’t reach my injury.”

“ Oh , of course,” he replied. “ Come , sit. I’ll tend to it.”

Song hugged the towel with her arms and walked to him. To her surprise, her knees trembled when she sat. Thankfully , Carlyle was immersed in the first-aid kit and didn’t notice.

He moved the kitchen chair and sat behind her. She smoothed her hair over one shoulder and turned her head to the side. Their gazes met briefly. She quickly looked away, all the while hoping he didn’t notice her nervousness.

The moment he touched her, she became hyperaware of him. His breathing, his fingers, his knees on either side of her. Her eyes closed as he gently touched the area around the wound.

“ It’s healing nicely.”

His deep voice rumbled through her. “ Good .”

“ Any pain?”

“ Only when I move.”

He chuckled, and she hated that she didn’t get to see his smile. She really wanted to see his smile.

“ Well ,” he said. “ These next two days will be good. Limit your movements so you can continue to heal.”

“ Sure .”

His fingers lingered near her spine after he applied a new bandage. She drank in the touch before his hand fell away.

“ All done,” Carlyle told her.

There was no reason to remain. It was harder than she realized to leave his closeness. This sudden need to be near him was embarrassing. Song stood and cast him a quick glance. “ Thank you,” she said quickly, walking through the bathroom to the bedroom.

Her hands shook when she closed the door. She could still feel his fingers on her back. She quickly made up the bed before dressing and walking out to the aroma of eggs and bacon.

“ Hope you’re hungry,” Carlyle said without looking at her.

She was ravenous, but what she hungered for wasn’t on the menu. A pity. She imagined a night with Carlyle would be an event she would never forget. As she reached up to grab the plates off one of the floating shelves, he turned, causing his arm to brush against her breast. Her nipples hardened, and she barely contained the moan that rose.

“ Oops . Sorry about that,” Carlyle said.

She put on a hasty smile and was glad her shirt was thick enough that he couldn’t see her nipples. “ I was in the way.”

Song laid out the plates and utensils. When she checked the fridge, she saw milk and orange juice. She poured juice and sat just as he finished cooking. Song realized that she liked watching him in the kitchen. She saw cooking as a chore, but to him, it was a passion. Art , even. It was in the way he touched the food, handled the instruments. How his eyes closed when he sampled his creations.

Song didn’t feel that way about anything. And she wanted that to change.

She really wanted that to change.