Bending Steele by Sadie Hart Page A

this time. “Fuck
me, Hexe.”
    His attention flicked to the door and Steele
nipped at his jaw.
    “We barely found our way back. He’s probably
slipped off the edge of a frozen cliff somewhere.” And died an
excruciatingly painful death if there were any gods in this
world .
    His hands found her hips, but the hunger in
his eyes had faded. “Why the change in heart, Steele? A week ago,
you wanted me dead.”
    Damn. She started to shove away. If they were
going to sit around analyzing feelings she’d take her chances on
the storm. But Hexe held her there, groin to groin, and she could
feel the bulge in his pants. He wanted this just as badly as she
did.
    So why was he doing his best to chase her
away?
    “It’s not a change of heart.”
    “So you still want me dead?”
    Her jaw tightened and she looked away.
    “I already said I didn’t. Fuck, Hexe. Don’t.”
She swallowed. “What I want is a night with you. We don’t have to
analyze why.”
    His hands turned soft against her hips, blunt
fingertips kneading into her muscles. “Yeah we do.”
    He held her, patient, and Steele didn’t want
to look at him. She knew what she’d see. Those cat green eyes—damn,
but those eyes—watching her, waiting. Seeing everything.
Frustrated, Steele jerked away, stumbling to her feet.
    “Fine. Never mind.” She turned to grab a
blanket and crash on the couch when Hexe caught her, his grip
gentle on her arm, but he didn’t let her when she jerked to get
away. For a moment, old habits kicked in and she started to reach
for her knife only to stop herself.
    She stood there frozen, torn. A week ago
she’d wanted nothing more than to be left alone, but now, the
thought of going back to complete silence again ate at her. Hexe
didn’t press her either. He waited and the silence stretched
between them. When she finally looked back at him, she could see
the King, the ruthless warrior of a man that no one dared to
challenge. It wasn’t just in the sharp cut of his jaw, the wild,
feral light in his eyes. It was the intensity in which he watched,
knowing he’d pick up every nuance, down to every breath, every
blink.
    Nothing would get by him.
    She knew he could see her inner struggle and
he was letting her decide.
    She took a step towards him and then shook
her head. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I don’t, I
can’t—”
    His thumb traced a circle on her forearm.
“You want to know what I think?”
    Steele squeezed her eyes shut. Her body still
warm with pleasure, tuned to his every movement. Ready, waiting.
But he’d always been one to read her so well, even before he’d
Marked her, when she’d lingered on the fringes of the tribe. He’d
known her better than anyone else, called her bluffs, told her
things she hadn’t been ready to hear. Her heart still wasn’t sure
she was ready. “No.”
    Hexe reached out brushed fingertips over her
breast, down her side. “You hate being vulnerable. Hate thinking
someone might actually give a damn about you.”
    Steele forced herself to snort. To laugh. “I
don’t care what someone else feels.”
    “You also hate that you might give a damn
back.” Hexe stepped closer, closing the gap between them until the
hard length of his body was pressed against hers. “And if you open
yourself up for that again, you risk losing another chunk of your
heart if they go away.”
    He kissed her, just a soft mingling of lips.
Tender. “I’m not going anywhere, Steele. I haven’t yet, have
I?”
    No. He hadn’t.
    Not over the months she’d tried to rebuff his
friendship or while she’d lived in his house.
    And there it was, hanging between them. The
fact that she cared about him. Might have even loved him. Him and
his smiling picture of his parents. The soft way he looked in pride
at his house and labored over every last detail. The way he’d held
her out there in the snow and said things she’d tried to tell
herself but had never been able to believe.
    Until Hexe.
    He’d forced