Free No Light by Devi Mara Page A

lips.
                  "No, I didn't sleep." She did not dare look away from him. "I am here to offer you a shower." Her gaze dropped to his chest and her eyes widened further at the sight of all the blood that covered him.
                  "And who had the idea that I would wish to wash the blood away?" he demanded, sounding offended.
                  Her eyes jerked up to his. "I'm sorry," she said quickly.
                  His hand tensed around her throat, as his eyes flashed. "Stop apologizing."
                  "I didn't mean-" she started to explain, only to have him cut her off.
                  "Silence." His hand loosened around her neck. "I would like a shower."
                  Sarah stayed perfectly still, as he stepped back. When he released her, the tips of his fingers lightly stroked across her throat. She swallowed hard, her eyes going to his face. He was already turning away. After several steps, he stopped and looked over his shoulder at her.
                  "Now," he barked.
                  She jerked and moved away from the wall.
     
    …
     
                  She smelled like winter, stark and pale. He watched her through narrowed eyes as she cautiously moved around him. He could almost taste the cold of the earth on his tongue. The season seemed to cling to her clothes and hair. Beneath the crispness, was a much warmer scent. He shook his head at himself.
                  Why should she smell like the sunshine in winter? He snarled to himself and saw her back tense. She did not turn to look at him, but he could smell the fear in her. It made the warm scent fade, replaced by the scent of rain. Her fear smelled like spring, damp and heavy. The medley of scents tickled his senses.
                  He followed her to the bathing room, his eyes never leaving her. Her small hands opened the door, and he watched each movement. Her hands seemed too small to have such power. It made fury build in him like a wave. When she stopped just inside the bathing room and turned to him, she must have seen some of his thoughts.
                  Her face paled and she took a step back from him. For a moment, they stared at each other. Her eyes large and green in her child-like face. Anger at her burned in him. A part of him wanted to crush her like a frail bird. Her humanity made her weak, her size made her fragile, and both traits irritated him.
                  He bared his teeth and she looked away quickly. He watched as she looked around the room, her gaze flitting from one thing to another. When he took a step toward her, she tensed. She kept her eyes lowered. Without the chains, he had full range of motion. He could break her. He frowned and stepped around her.
                  As his hands went to the hem of his shirt, he saw her glance at the door. He ignored it, pulling the roughly crafted garment over his head. It dropped to the floor, the sound loud in the quiet. Sarah hurriedly turned away. He watched her shoulders slouch, as if she could make herself appear smaller.
                  "Fetch me a towel," he ordered.
     
    …
     
                  She jerked at the command, already moving before she fully realized the order. The towels were in a neat stack by the door. She walked quickly. Snatching a towel off the stack, she turned to face Farran and paused. She felt her eyes go wide at the sight of his back facing her.
                  Perfect, tan skin stretched across the wide expanse of his shoulders. She watched as he stretched, muscles bunching on either side of his spine from the nape of his neck to the waist of his pants. She looked down at the towel in her hands, unable not to measure her small, pale form against his. Her scarred hands and delicate bones, so breakable next to him.
                  Her