Page 29 of His Retribution

Glowing.

Beautiful.

Familiar.

They scan my face, take in every feature. Worry sits in those piercing eyes briefly, but as I furrow my brow, scrunch my nose in thought, the worry fades and is replaced by something else entirely.

Disappointment?

I almost ask if that's what he feels, if somehow he's disappointed in me but instead I just keep staring.

His eyes, those incredible eyes, are set against skin almost as fair as mine, thick dark lashes frame them perfectly. A dark black brow lifts just a little and my gaze follows it, notices how perfectly shaped those brows are except for a scar running through the middle of the left one. His expression relaxes a bit but it almost seems like he's holding his breath as I continue examining his features.

His nose is elegant, a little pointed but has an almost royal quality about it. If a nose can even beroyal.

There's another small scar under his left eye, a third on his cheek.

His beard is full and unkempt but the dark hair does nothing to hide his gorgeous lips. Lips that look soft and inviting. And for some reason I get the impression there are dimples hiding somewhere in there.

"Are you… are you hurt?"

Oh god, and that voice.

It's deep and rich, full of gravel and that accent—one much like Kai's but a touch different—makes me feel like I could listen to this man speak forever and never grow tired of it.

Worry creeps back into his gaze, his unwavering and analytical stare, which is when I realize I still haven't said anything.

"I'm ok." Pushing up on my elbows I notice I'm in the grass. "Did I pass out?"

He nods.

Then I remember my hair, so I sit up and start feeling for a missing chunk.

He clears his throat and watches my hand. "I caught you before you fell and was able to untangle the pieces from the engine. It appeared you slipped on something, lost your footing, and when I caught you I could see where your hair had snagged."

"Thank you." Geez, I can't stop looking at him.

He's huge, another gigantic man with bulging muscles, long black hair and a heavy accent but he seems different from the Dragovihk's. This man seems… other worldly.

And despite all of the hair on his face, I can tell he's even more beautiful than the others.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, he gets to his feet with a nod but I don't want him to go.

No, every fiber in my body is screaming for him to stay, to talk with me, to be here with me and never leave. But that is a one way ticket to friendship with a possible stop in crazy-ville.

And yet I find myself scrambling to my feet.

"Um..." I chew my thumb nervously, smooth the end of my braid. "Thank you again. I… I really appreciate you making sure I wasn't doomed to a life of dangling from the engine of my truck."

He gives me a sweet smile and another nod, searches the tree line, then apparently decides it's time to leave.

And oh, how I don't want that.

So I blurt, "I'm Gypsy, by the way. Well, not really but that's what everyone calls me. It’s my preference really, I don't usually go by my..." I bite my thumb harder. "I'm Gypsy."

His smile grows, but only a little. "Havok."

Then he reaches out, maybe to push my hair out of my eyes or gently caress my cheek but instead, the pad of his thumb swipes across my forehead, lingers over my scar before he pulls back.