When they pulled back from each other, Aramisius eyes remained glued to the soft pout of Aeryl's lips. "Stop looking at me like that," she whispered teasingly, not wanting him to stop. Aramisius didn't stop staring at her, piercingly. "Looking like what?" He asked. "Like you're deciding where to put your hands." "I already know where." His voice sat low in his chest. "I'm deciding how long I can keep them to myself." The carriage bumped over a rut and Aeryl caught herself on his arm, and her fingers stayed, warm through his sleeve. "You've been deciding to touch me since Elyria, Lycan." she said. "No. Even before that." Aeryl froze in surprise and blinked. Then, she laughed, quiet, and the sound pulled something loose in him. The matebond hummed in her chest, a bright taut string, plucked. "Then stop deciding to touch me," she said. He didn' succumb t. Not yet. He reached up and traced the line of her jaw, slowly, the way a man tested a locked door to a dangerous route. He
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