Page 89 of Mindeater

“I’m not standing out here wet and naked while you take your sweet time. Get in the fucking lake.”

Wet.

Naked.

I swallow very hard. “T-turn around.”

“Fuck’s sake,” he grumbles. “Alright. I’m not looking.”

Peering over my shoulder, I find he’s telling the truth. His broad shoulders shake a bit, probably from the cold water. I wet my dry lips while following the blanket of hair covering most of his back. His ears poke through the wet strands, twitching. By the first seer, my heart will not stop racing.

He’s just so…beautiful.

Perfect in all the ways someone might not see.

I bite my lip, curious but terrified.

If not for the fact that I have at least seven layers of sweat, grime, and mud caked to my body, I’d refuse altogether. But the thought of being even semi-clean is too tempting to deny. I make quick work of my clothes and shoes, strip down, and shiver in the cool air.

“Do not turn around,” I demand, cupping myself and inching closer to the water.

“It’s not like I don’t know what a cock looks like,” he mutters and disappears under the surface.

I linger for a few seconds before saying fuck it and jog in. The water is unbelievably cold, a complete shock to my system, but I venture in deeper. I actually cry out when it brushes my testicles, and drop down. Ryx surfaces a moment later. It’s impossible not to look.

He stands so the water level touches his hips. A light dusting of hair runs from his chest to an even thinner strip starting at his navel. My eyes lock onto it. Those drops of water glide through it and disappear into the lake. Any ounce of moisture in my mouth dries out when his muscles flex and ripple.

Thankfully, he doesn’t notice, too busy rinsing his face with his hands.

As much as I want to admire and examine him, I can’t tear my eyes away from the scars. Some are old, faint and pale pink. Some are fresher, still angry and red. There are so many—they pepper over his chest and shoulders. One slices across his stomach like someone tried to gut him.

“What happened to you?” I ask against my better judgment.

He lowers his hands, our eyes locking. The rise and fall of his chest draws my attention to his pebbled pink nipples. I’m both horrified and utterly distracted. All that raven-wing hair drapes down his chest in the most sinful way.

Is this…lust?

Ryx doesn’t answer for a while; he just watches me watch him. Goosebumps prickle my arms and chest. His eyes travel over my face, exposed chest and shoulders. I shiver in the freezing lake, at least that’s what I’m telling myself.

When he finally answers, it’s not the elaborate story of how he got those scars. His scent is much stronger, like he’s pushing it out on purpose. “Stop looking at me like that, Saren.”

I blink, tearing my eyes away from his chest. “S-sorry.”

Inching closer, Ryx pumps out more pheromones. It’s so strong that I jerk up out of my squat to step back. Now most of my body is out of the water. The man shamelessly gawks at me, his eyes lingering on the scar he gave me.

“Does it hurt at all?” he asks softly, nodding toward it.

“No,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around myself. “I think all the nerves are dead.”

Humming under his breath, he closes the distance between us, and I startle. “Relax,” he nearly purrs and scoops up some water.

It’s impossible to feel warm in an ice bath, but it’s happening. My stomach does that weird flip-flutter again. Calloused fingers wash away the dirt on my shoulders. The shock of our opposing masteries doesn’t feel as violent. It’s more like a tickle now. “Can’t stay in here much longer,” he murmurs and continues to wash me.

Once he’s satisfied with my shoulders, he moves onto my neck. I inch my chin up automatically. His nostrils flare, and his pupils dilate, but he doesn’t comment. Doesn’t make it known that he’s accepting my submission. He’s the only alpha I’ve ever wanted to do this with—the only one who ever had that effect on me. When his fingers drift over my scent gland, he lingers there. My heart flutters wildly, hoping he’ll scent mark me.

No one’s ever done that before.

I don’t think I’ve wanted something as badly as I do now.