Weird feeling

   Raven black hair tumbled over tan shoulders, stopping only when it reached his torso. He had eyes of truest amber and they were so cold, Zoey shivered. Her eyes trailed along the elegant lines of his face and she found that she couldn’t draw her gaze away from him.

     Zoey had seen her fair share of men but none were this beautiful. There was nothing soft or delicate about his features. Wild and rare was his kind of beauty. He was not a man you looked away from. Or walked away from. He was the type of man you ran away from.

    All of her senses screamed danger as she observed the man who was bathed in blood and covered with tattered clothes that had no doubt been ripped from battle. Her eyes drooped from his luscious and sensual lips to the skin below his neck. Through the rip of his shirt, she could see the build of muscles and—she swallowed, forcing her gaze back to his face.

    She jerked, heart slamming in her chest when she found his amber gaze narrowed on her. He tilted his head in an awkward way, eyes skimming over her figure, beckoning her closer. Something. . .there was something wrong with her. She found her feet moving toward him, even if her subconscious screamed at her to run from him. 

    A hand settled on her shoulder, breaking through her trance, and she turned slightly to find Iona watching her strangely. “What are you doing?”

    “I. . .ah. . .I have to give the prisoner food,” she said, slightly flustered. Just what had she been about to do? Walk into the cage? Everyone knew never to engage with the imprisoned enemy unless necessary. What had she been thinking?

    “Leave it in the corner, Dia. This one’s different. I wouldn’t advise you to get within five feet of him.”

    Zoey blew out a shaky breath and nodded. She had done this a lot of times. She just had to drop the darned food tray and get the hell out of there. Holding that thought, she straightened her spine and walked briskly to the corner, dropping the food tray by the side of his dungeon. 

    She knew she really shouldn’t, but she couldn’t help but steal a glance in his direction. Her heart began to race again when she found him watching her still. Her cheeks flamed and something within her began to melt under his hot gaze. What in the world was going on with her?

     Her insides turned molten as she held his gaze. There was a sudden crack behind that cold and steely demeanor, and she spied something she shouldn’t have. Something she had never seen in the eyes of any other prisoner she had tended to. There was pain, and regret.

    It was so strong, she nearly doubled over. Yeah. That was it for her. She fled from the cell, not trusting herself to remain there without speaking to him, or even worse, reaching out to touch him. Never would she return to that place, she swore to herself.

    But she knew she would go back. She couldn’t get his eyes out of her head. Even as she stood in the meeting later that night, listening to her mother address the witches on the fight that had happened earlier, all she could think of was the emotion she had glimpsed behind his eyes.

    She had to go back to see him later tonight.

                               **************

       Zoey stood before the cage, staring defiantly at the prisoner. She observed him with the same amount of intensity he watched her with. There was something unsettling about this. Him. Perhaps, she was scared that Anastasia would skin her alive for being in here at this time. 

    Not quite. Though Anastasia was not her biological mother, she loved her like her own. She would not harm her. Though it didn’t change the fact that she really shouldn’t be here. 

     “You didn’t touch the food,” she blurted, not knowing how to start a conversation with him. 

     His eyes remained cold and unyielding as he said, “Why? Has your leader given the order for me to be poisoned to death?”

     Her nostrils flared and ire flashed in her eyes. “My mother would never do that. Watch your words, wolf.”

     He cocked his head arrogantly. “Mother? What are you? You are covered in the stench of witches but your distinctive smell isn’t one of the witches. You smell wrong.”

     Zoey backed up, glaring at him. How he had been able to glean that she wasn’t one of them from smelling her was beyond her. Still, if he kept insulting her family, she might bash her fist into his throat. “I do not see how that is any of your business.” She eyes him obviously irritated. 

“This was a waste of time,” she muttered underneath her breath, turning to leave.

    But he said so softly, she almost didn’t hear him, “What is your name?”

    Her head whipped back to the prisoner. “Tell me yours first.”

    His lips twitched slightly, but he didn’t laugh. “Zachary .”

    “Zoey,” she replied.

    “Zoey,” he repeated and she shuddered as her name rolled off his tongue in a way that made her feel like she had been caressed. “You do not reek of blood. You did not fight today.”

      Unable to meet his piercing gaze, she looked at every surface except his face. “I do not like war. I try to avoid conflict as much as I can.”

     He shifted slightly for the first time, and Zoey watched as his elegant fingers plunged into his dark mane. “Do you think I'm a fool for coming here as your mother does?”

    Zoey blinked. “Yes, I do.”

   He laughed and it was a musical sound, the most beautiful thing she had heard. The fine hairs on her skin rose at the sound of it and she shuddered again. This man. . .he was doing things to her that no one else had. 

    And heavens help her, she quite liked the weird feeling she got inside from speaking to him. So she remained, exchanging words and thoughts with the prisoner, and it was only when the roosters announced the break of dawn that she left the dungeons, feeling torn deep within herself.