Samuel said so many things when he didn’t speak. Most people did, but most people were simple puzzles of their wants and fears. There was no direct answer when she looked at Samuel, not simple response to the question. Every reaction an amalgamation of competing cues. She’d humored him, but he took no joy in it. He had much to be proud of, but there was an uncharacteristic hesitation to declare his brilliance. He was not a humble man; it wouldn’t suit him. This quiet caution felt dangerous, more a hunter considering his approach than a man sharing his achievements. He did not seem capable of ease, his form always appearing ready for action. She wondered at the tightly wound springs beneath the surface, at the energy always seeming just at the gates of his control. She wondered more at her need to draw closer.
She could feel his eyes on her skin and recognized the shiver that told her to cover her vulnerabilities. She felt the impulse to retreat but resisted, more interested in the urge she had to offer him her throat, no matter his intentions. There was nothing subtle or appropriate about how she responded to his lips at her throat, her hand sinking into his hair. She would revel in his attention while she possessed them. They had all the time in the world, and they had nothing.
Her laugh was breathy; attention split between his words and action. “There is never enough of anything, dear one. There never is.” The endearment came easily, affection not fitting to the syllables of his name. She almost cursed as he pulled away, her own distraction and annoyance at the reminder to focus on the task at hand perhaps mirrored in her eyes. There was no helping it; she was becoming what she warned him. Themis was growing greedy. She wasn’t apologizing.
She schooled her expression, his pivot catching her attention as he took her hand. She longed for him, and she wouldn’t shun what she was given. An eyebrow raised at his description of his own realm. “Is ‘peculiarities’ the Alchemist’s word for trap?” That, she would expect. The thought made her grin.
She could feel his eyes on her skin and recognized the shiver that told her to cover her vulnerabilities. She felt the impulse to retreat but resisted, more interested in the urge she had to offer him her throat, no matter his intentions. There was nothing subtle or appropriate about how she responded to his lips at her throat, her hand sinking into his hair. She would revel in his attention while she possessed them. They had all the time in the world, and they had nothing.
Her laugh was breathy; attention split between his words and action. “There is never enough of anything, dear one. There never is.” The endearment came easily, affection not fitting to the syllables of his name. She almost cursed as he pulled away, her own distraction and annoyance at the reminder to focus on the task at hand perhaps mirrored in her eyes. There was no helping it; she was becoming what she warned him. Themis was growing greedy. She wasn’t apologizing.
She schooled her expression, his pivot catching her attention as he took her hand. She longed for him, and she wouldn’t shun what she was given. An eyebrow raised at his description of his own realm. “Is ‘peculiarities’ the Alchemist’s word for trap?” That, she would expect. The thought made her grin.
![[Image: Bka0H0x.jpeg]](https://i.imgur.com/Bka0H0x.jpeg)