A Shadow in the Ember (Flesh and Fire 1)

He watched me, but his stare was nothing like Nor’s. There was curiosity there. “It’s amazing to witness.”

“What is?”

“These moments when you suddenly remember what I am. Is this another attempt to use common sense?”

I lifted my chin a notch. “Unfortunately.”

“Is it not going well again?”

“Not exactly.”

He chuckled, and the sound…well, it was as nice as his laugh. I wished it weren’t because it made me want to hear it again, and that seemed like a silly need. “Why do you think you need to remain quiet now?”

I spared a glance at the shore. “I’m likely to say something that would make you forget that one decent bone in your body.”

He drew his lower lip between his teeth, and for some inane reason, my full attention was drawn to that. “I don’t think that’s the kind of mood you have to worry about putting me in.”

“What kind of—?” I cut myself off as what he said sank in. There was a sharp curl low in my stomach that I didn’t like at all—for a multitude of reasons.

“I know. That was…inappropriate of me.”

“Very,” I muttered, thinking my response was just as inappropriate, all things considered.

“You’re unexpectedly outspoken.”

“I’m not sure how you can be expectant of anything as we don’t really know each other.”

“I think I know enough,” he responded.

“I don’t even know your name,” I pointed out.

“Some call me Ash.”

“Ash?” I repeated, and he nodded. Something about that was familiar. “Is it short for something?”

“It is short for many things.” His head suddenly snapped toward the shore. A moment passed. “By the way, I would think you would’ve learned from our last interaction. I don’t make a habit of punishing mortals for speaking their minds.” He shot a glance in my direction. “Mostly.”

Threatening to claw out his eyes and actually stabbing him in the chest weren’t examples of speaking my mind, but I wisely didn’t share that thought.

“And I didn’t accost you. I may be a lot of things…” He strode forward with the warning. “But I am not that.”

I opened my mouth, but all words left me when he neared the shallower end of the lake. I stared. Gods help me, I couldn’t take my eyes away from him as he climbed the earthen steps to the shore. It wasn’t his rear that snagged my attention. Though I did see that. I shouldn’t have, and I should’ve turned away right then because that made me a hypocrite of the highest order—being inappropriate went both ways. But I didn’t. What I did see of his ass was…well, it was as well-formed as everything else I shouldn’t have seen.

But it was the ink sprawling across the entire length of his back from the upper swells of his rear all the way to the edges of his hair that I couldn’t look away from. In the center of his back was a circular, twisted swirl that grew larger, lashing out to form the thick tendrils I’d seen reaching around his waist to flow along the insides of his hips. There wasn’t nearly enough light for me to make out what made up the swirling design, but I had never seen any sailor with a tattoo like his. Again, my curiosity stirred. “What kind of tattoo is that?”

“One that is inked into the skin.” He started to turn toward me, and I quickly averted my eyes. “You should get dressed. I won’t look. I promise.”

I peeked at him, finding that he’d turned away from the lake and held what appeared to be a pair of black breeches that I truly had not seen upon my arrival. My gaze shot to my pile of clothing. I couldn’t stand here forever and question him.

I charged through the water, my eyes trained on his shoulders as he bent. Reaching the damp shore, I grabbed my slip and pulled it over my head. It only reached an inch or two past my thighs, but it was the quickest option, and the last thing I wanted to do was force my breasts into the bodice of the damn gown in front of him.

I picked up my sheathed blade—

“I do hope you aren’t planning something foolish with that blade.”

I turned to him, my irritation spiking when I saw that he still had his back to me. Obviously, he wasn’t worried at all about what I would do with it.

“I haven’t been the one issuing threats, so I would hope not.” He faced me then, a smirk fixed on those well-formed lips. He stood there, the flap of his breeches undone, still wearing no shirt. I was positive he could’ve finished dressing. His fingers made quick work of the flap of his breeches. “You should unsheathe that blade.”

My brows lifted at the unexpected request. “Do you want me to use this one on you, too?”