Without Thorns

Summary: When brooding Danerus strolls into an underworld bar to blow off some steam, the least he expects to find is the innocent nymph who gives him a far too tempting proposition.

Genre: Fantasy/Paranormal Romance

Rating: R/MATURE

•••

Without Thorns 

Deva headed straight for the man in the corner of the bar. Danerus was his name—though she knew that he preferred Dane. In fact, she knew a lot about him, considering that she'd been following him for over a month—thankfully, he hadn't seemed to notice her just yet.

At the moment he was watching a game of darts being played, and Deva had to fight down the urge to bolt while he was distracted.

Tonight was the first time she ever approached him directly. Usually she watched him from a distance, but now she crept close enough to feel the heat emanating from his body. Close enough to smell what lurked beneath his human exterior—the animalistic musk characteristic of only one creature...

What next? She wondered once she drew level to his shoulder—but the words she'd practiced countless times before the mirror wouldn't come.

Instead, she watched him through her lashes rather than speak. He looked...worn, up close. There were wrinkles around his eyes. His mouth seemed set in a permanent frown. She had seen ancient trees, buckling under the weight of millennia with more spunk than him.

He probably shifted early, she realized.

Though the man looked no older than his mid-thirties, his soul seemed nearly three times that, strained by the burden of his beast. Deva felt incredibly young in comparison, and she was nearing her one hundred and sixteenth birthday. Nervously, she shifted on her heels, and tore her gaze down to the floor.

It seemed as though ages had passed before she found to strength to voice just one word, "Hello."

An impatient grunt was her reply. "This doesn't seem like the place for your kind, Nymph."

Deva flinched. Apparently her simple dress and sandals left little to the imagination as to her true nature. She might as well have worn a sign that read 'wood nymph.'

"I...I am a N-Nymph," she blurted, unsure of what else to say.

Speaking to the werewolf in person was a bit different from the silent image of him she'd conjured in her head. Suddenly her rehearsed, practiced speech wouldn't quite leave her throat.

"I..."

"What do you want?"

He turned and Deva had no choice but to meet his gaze directly.

"I...I...wanted to ask a favor of you..."

The werewolf's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Well?"

Deva couldn't breathe. Everything had seemed so easy when planned inside her head. She had found her likely candidate—the hard part was done. She had even followed him to make sure. Now, shall that was left was for her to march up to him and confidently blurt...

"I want you to sleep with me."

Easy, right?

___________________

Dane had known the woman didn't belong, the moment she'd drifted into the bar. She looked like a lost angel—and not one of the 'fallen' ones who might have fit in amongst the riff raff.

He would have had to have been blind not to notice her, considering that she wore less than some of the succubi nearby. Her short dress barely covered her ass and an ivory headband struggled to tame her mane of blood-red curls.

The sad part was that the outfit didn't even seem intentionally sexy. It was almost as though she had no idea the line of thinking such an outfit might inspire in the opposite sex.

Dane tried to tell himself that her body had no effect on him, but...

His nostrils flared before he could help it, analyzing her scent. She smelled like one of them; the almighty and pretentious Fae—but underneath were the earthy undertones of wild flowers. Sweet. However, he raised an eyebrow as his mind processed her last question which was not so innocent. Sleep with me...

"Times must be hard if a wood nymph has to stoop to trolling for one night stands in an Underworld bar." He sounded oddly calm despite the fact that she was obviously playing some kind of sick joke.

"L-Listen," she pleaded before he could turn on his heel. "I know this sounds crazy—"

"Not interested."

His tone was purposefully cold and he hoped she would take the hint and go bother someone else. However, he could still sense her standing there, unmoving, as the seconds passed.

"I know it sounds crazy." Her voice was so soft that Dane had to invoke every bit of his superhuman senses just to hear her above the pounding riffs of the metal music. "But please...you're the only one who can help me—"

With a grunt of annoyance, he turned, reaching back to drag the woman after him. The softness of her skin was a surprise. He could feel nearly every delicate bone in her wrist. Trying not to care, he pulled her toward a fire door that led out into the alley.

It was a warm night, for fall. That tiny white dress didn't seem so out of place, as he spun her around to face him.

She looked fearful. Her eyes were so dark they rivaled the night sky visible through the mouth of the alley.

"I'm serious," she pleaded before he could speak. "I want you to—"

"Shut up!" Utterly confused, Dane observed her, honing in on the way her heartbeat fluttered in her pale throat.

She wasn't lying. Or at least he couldn't tell if she was—and if she had managed to fool the primal instincts of a werewolf, then she was a damn good actress.

"Just one night," she whispered. "Then you never have to see me again. I promise."

"Why?" Dane rasped once he remembered how to speak. The nymph opened her mouth to answer, but he cut her off. "What's your name?"

She blinked. "Deva."

It was a full minute before he realized that she had already said it before. Deva.

"What do you want from me, Deva? Make it quick, or I'll drag you back into the bar and see if anyone else wants to take you up on that 'proposition.'"

She flinched and Dane felt something that could have been guilt sting his chest. Regardless, he tried to make his expression hard. Uncaring.

"Do you want to take that risk?"

In the end, all she said was, "Please."

She hadn't been whispering before, he realized. Her voice was just naturally soft the same way that his tended to rasp over a growl.

"I know you probably think I'm crazy..."

"Probably?" Dane raised an eyebrow. "You walk into a bar and proposition a stranger for...sex?" The statement became a question before he could help it. He still couldn't believe it—not even as his stomach lurched at the mere mention of the word.

Six months, a part of him whined. Six long months since he'd had any form of intimate contact. The nymph, with her long, blood-colored hair may not have been his type, but...

"Yes," she breathed in that wispy voice. "S-sex."

"Why?"

Deva shrugged. "You're not supposed to ask me that question," she said sheepishly. "In fact...I expected you to just sort of nod and lead me to some dark corner to do the deed..."

"You're serious." Dane didn't know whether to pinch himself or double check that no one had slipped any magic drug into his drink. Who cares? A part of him whispered. She's warm. She's willing. She's...

Young. Logically, he knew that she was much older than she appeared if she was one of the Fae—but she seemed young. There was an innocence about her that reminded him of a child, though she appeared to be in her mid twenties.

"Sorry," he choked out. "Not interested."

"Wait!" Deva reached for him, and Dane recoiled. In the end her hand faltered mere inches from his chest. "Why not? I don't think it would take very long—"

A dangerous sound rumbled through Dane's chest at the thought. It wouldn't take long at all...

Not after months of sating himself with a cold shower or even his own hand when things got unbearable.

"I wouldn't bother you after. I swear. I just need one night—"

"Why?" Dane hated the roughness in his voice.

"It's a long story."

"I have time." It was the only thing he seemed to have an abundance of these days.

"Okay...But let's go somewhere private first."

_______________________

There was a cheap motel a few blocks down from the bar that Deva had scoped out on the off chance that he would want privacy—though if he had wanted to take her in some shadowy corner, she tried to tell herself that it wouldn't have mattered.

Right?

Only with Dane trailing behind her, her foolproof plan suddenly didn't seem so simple. At the thought of him on top of her, pressing her down...she couldn't breathe.

Not for the first time she wondered, why him? Why, out of dozens of men had he been the only one even remotely eligible?

Perhaps it was simply a dark twist of fate that an actual monster would be her salvation from a figurative one?

She couldn't think of any other explanation as she turned onto the path leading to the motel, where a sagging, neon sign in the window proclaimed 'deluxe suite $65 a night.'

Inside, the man behind the counter charged her seventy five dollars for a "premier" room where the only draw was the bed. The only other objects were a potted plant on a windowsill and a single nightstand. Deva loathed the idea of even sitting down on the dubious-looking mattress, let alone taking her clothes off and...

For the first time, it hit her that—if, by some miracle, he actually agreed—she would lose her virginity to the man behind her. The huge, brooding, giant of a man...

"Speak," Dane commanded. "You don't seem to have a problem with propositioning strangers. So start talking."

"I'm a wood nymph," Deva blurted, though he'd already guessed that particular detail. "Among my kind, s-sex... It's different for us than for mortals or many other beings."

There was no need to beat around the bush now.

"Mating amongst 'tree folk' is more of a transaction than anything else. When we mate, power is shared between us, and our virginity is...potent."

Which was a nice way of putting it. In actuality, a wood nymph's virginity enhanced the 'taker's' natural abilities—whether the nymph was willing or not. It was one of the many reasons why her kind feared humans so much; a habit that had developed over centuries of being hunted by mortals desperate for some power of their own.

"After some unfortunate...events," Deva went on, eyes on the peeling ceiling, "the women of my kind resorted to arranged marriages in order to ensure that our innocence is given to someone...worthy."

She paused for his reaction. Disbelief? A laugh?

All she received was silence—which, for some reason, seemed so much worse. Holding her breath, she counted the seconds that passed without him racing out the door.

One...

Two...

Three...

"I was promised to a warlock named Etienne," she continued, when a full minute passed. "The arrangement was cemented years ago and I had never really minded the prospect until..."

"Let me guess." Deva jumped as the harsh masculine voice sliced through her own. "You grew up and realized that you wanted more. Love?" He made it sound like some kind of disease.

Deva shook her head. "No. I met him, but he was not what I expected..."

She shuddered and knew that Dane, with his heightened senses, noticed every quiver.

"He disgusted you," he scoffed as if amused by the idea. "Too ugly for a fair Fae?"

Once again Deva shook her head. "He was...well, he was mean," she said, for lack of a better word. Her spine stiffened at the sound of Dane's harsh bark of laughter.

"Did he mock you, dear Fae?" His voice dripped with derision. "Better yet, did he refuse to grovel at your heavenly feet?"

"No," Deva whispered, reliving the moment she had met Etienne and seen her 'betrothed' for the first time. "I looked at him, but all I could see was darkness."

"What do you mean darkness?" Sometime while she spoke Dane had moved to stand beside her. With every word his breath teased her shoulder. "Something tells me that you aren't referring to his appearance."

"I can read intentions of others," Deva admitted. Like many Fae, she could sense another's emotions and thoughts.

For instance, she knew Dane didn't believe her. That he had a foul temper and was prone to outbursts—but unlike Etienne's, the werewolf's aura was a cool shade of gray. In comparison, her fiancé's was a black hole.

"He's evil," she added. "Unworthy. A nymph is always taught that it is her duty to trust her own instincts, and the man I give my virginity to should be...good."

"And he isn't?" Dane's masculine tenor reverberated all the way down to her toes.

"No..."

"But a stranger is?" He was mocking her again, and before she could stop herself Deva whirled on him.

"This isn't a game!" She fearlessly met those black eyes and willed him to listen. "I'm...I'm desperate. Etienne can't have me. He can't!"

"But a werewolf can?" he countered. "A beast?"

She staggered back as though the questions were blows. For the first time, she realized just how intimidating he really was; a wall of solid muscle. He could have easily torn her to pieces without breaking a sweat.

"I'm not some kind of stray pup, Fae," he said harshly. "You stick your nose up at a man you claim to fear only to turn to a monster?"

He had a point. When said out loud, she sounded insane—or worse. But he could never understand the true extent of her fear.

"You think I'm crazy," she said unable to blame him if he did. "You think I'm acting irrationally, but I've just told you one of the Fae's most guarded secrets. If you wanted to...you could take my virginity now and torture me into telling you where my sisters lived."

Like her, there were several others in her clan who had not yet met their betrothed—all too young and slender to fight off a human his size, let alone a werewolf.

"Do you think I would come to you if I didn't know that you could be trusted? If I was really so crazy or so desperate, wouldn't I just approach any man on the street?"

"Why me?" Dane barked.

At least this question had an easy answer.

"You're selfless."

"Selfless?" The man jerked back as if she'd struck him. "You don't know—"

"I can see it," Deva insisted. The colors of his aura shone like silver. "Danerus, I'm pretty confident in saying that you are the most selfless man in this city."

She knew because she had spent a good part of the past month searching high and low for someone, anyone, more worthy than Etienne. He was the only one who'd caught her eye.

"Dane," she sighed. "I know you don't—"

Wham!

She never even saw him move. The next second his hands were on her shoulders and she was pinned between his body and the wall.

"How the hell do you know my name?"

"I...I..."

"You followed me," he snapped when she didn't argue. His eyes were feral, narrowed into slits.

"Yes," she admitted. "I had to see for myself—and I have. You are worthy of me, Dane. I don't know why, but you are."

"You know nothing about me, nymph," he spat. "Nothing."

"I do!"

It didn't take much effort for her to see his true self; the emotions were all but written across his face. Desperate to prove it, Deva latched onto the first memory she sensed.

"I know about your wife."

Bad, Deva! Her instincts of self-preservation were on high alert as Dane jerked back as if slapped.

"I know she left you," she continued stupidly. "I know that you're still hurting."

"Do you?"

She didn't even have the chance to blink before his hands were around her throat. He barely even touched her, but Deva could still sense the warning in the grip.

"What else do you know?"

His tone was guttural, but for some reason she wasn't afraid at all. Whenever she looked at him, she only saw the same three adjectives written across his face; agony, grief, regret.

"I can sense your pain."

Careful, Deva...

Usually, she tried to be polite and read what thoughts only lay on the surface of a person's conscience, but with him she recklessly probed further, seeking what hid underneath.

Desire, for one though he was trying his best—and failing—to suppress it.

"I know you want me," she said in a voice she didn't even recognize. It wasn't the whole truth—he seemed to just crave any kind of human contact at all. Still...

Her eyes slid shut, and she felt no sense of shame as she continued to pull the thoughts from him, one by one.

"I know how long it's been. You haven't had a woman in—"

"Stop it." His grip tightened over her arms as if he meant to shove her away—but he never moved, and Deva had no trouble at all naming the emotions tumbling through his massive body; Heat. Desire. Want. Need. Now.

It was an intense gauntlet of feelings that she had never experienced as a nymph.

"I can help..."

Dane growled. His hands left her waist only to travel lower, skimming the flesh of her thigh...

"You want to play, little nymph?"

His eyes glowed. It was obvious that what little control he had over his primal instincts was slipping. Especially when he tugged at the panel of her panties and the rough pad of a thumb slid underneath.

Deva's throat went dry. Body tensed. Nobody had ever touched her there—or like that...

"You want to play your game, nymph?" Dane repeated in a near growl. "We'll play..."

__________________

Dane lifted the nymph by the waist and stumbled to the bed.

With a grunt of impatience, he focused his attention on dragging a pair of lacy cotton panties down her legs. Surprisingly, the nymph shifted to assist him and in two seconds the garment was on the floor.

"Roll over."

She scrambled to obey but before she could even fully rise on her own Dane hooked an arm beneath her waist and yanked her to her knees. Lust seized control of his limbs. He palmed her hips, intending to only feel her body through the flimsy fabric, but then—in two harsh yanks—the tiny shift ripped at the seams.

At the sound, a fearful whine tore from her throat and he froze.

"You alright?" He was shocked to hear that still sounded somewhat human. The wolf was still locked up tight in its cage. For now.

"Fine," Deva croaked, though she sounded anything but. "I just...I've never done anything like this before..."

Shit! Dane swallowed down the curse and started to pull away from her. "Maybe you should find someone else—"

"And I don't want you to stop," Deva said quickly before he could move. "Is...is that alright? Normal?" She sounded perplexed, like a student stumped by an unexpectedly hard math problem. "I want you to touch me."

Dane's fingers flexed, aching to do just that—but he wasn't stupid. A woman didn't go from 'blushing bride' to willing and ready in the span of five seconds for no reason. He wracked his mind to remember what she had told him about her power; I can read people.

Only now did he have an idea of what that might have meant. "Deva...are you an empath?"

She shook her head. "I can sense other's emotions. Intentions. Thoughts. Desires..."

Which pretty much was a 'yes' to his question—meaning that little nymph was currently being subjected to six months of his own pent up lust.

Fuck. Dane backed away from her, climbing off the bed. He stopped short of leaving the room altogether, as some part of him knew he should have.

Deva just watched him, eyes like saucers. Her dress hung precariously off her shoulders, baring sinful amounts of creamy skin.

Damn. Dane struggled to remember which muscles worked to bring air into his lungs as every ounce of blood in his veins travelled south. His jeans were a squeezing vice. One good brush against his zipper and he'd come right there in his boxers—though, maybe it was a good thing if he did?

He glanced at the door, fully intending to leave, but before he could even go a single step, she called him back.

"Dane, please—"

He was back on the bed in two seconds. In one twist of his fingers, he unzipped his jeans and groaned in relief as his cock sprung free.

He was too far gone to worry about being polite. Without taking his eyes off her face, he reached into his boxers and trapped his cock in a fist, squeezing down over the shaft just to keep from losing his mind.

She was watching him, pink bottom lip trapped between her teeth. Her legs were tensed, locked together at the knees, betraying an unconscious fear she didn't even seem to be aware of. Without relinquishing his grip on himself, Dane nudged a pale thigh until they obediently parted. His heart pounded against the walls of his chest as he settled into the space between them.

He tried to tell himself that if he was a good man as she so naively insisted, he would have pulled back and left her to find someone else.

But one whiff of her scent up close...

All logical thought left his mind. The wolf in him purred in response to the faint essence of earth and wind that clung to her skin. She smelled like the forest. Hell, everything about her reminded him of nature: the emerald green of those eyes, the hair like sunset and skin paler than the moon in the sky.

It was getting harder and harder to remember why this was a bad idea—and damn near impossible to string together any intelligible thoughts at all.

This is wrong, he told himself, even as he reached down to slide a single finger along the apex of her thighs.

Near-painful lust lanced through him at the feel of her skin. He couldn't tell from her soft moans if the intrusion was causing her pleasure or pain. Her face was turned away from him, shrouded by that cloak of hair.

"Deva," he grated, barely able to keep his voice steady. If he wasn't mistaken, a growl had crept into his tone. "If I'm hurting you, tell me to stop—I swear to God... Just say it."

She nodded frantically, even as her body stiffened in response to his touch. He traced her once, almost reverently, before he began to ease the pad of his index finger inside...

Her hips jerked up from the bed.

"Are you okay?" He managed to choke out.

She only nodded in response, and Dane couldn't pull back.

You'll hurt her, the logic in him warned, even as he slid his free hand beneath her waist and wrenched her body into an arch. She's a virgin...

But when the head of his cock teased her warm, wet entrance nothing short of a silver stake could have stopped him from thrusting deep.

_________________________________

The pain was sharp, like the jab from a knife.

Deva gasped, but to her shock, Dane jerked back, though his grimace revealed how much it hurt him to.

"Fuck," she heard him grunt. "Are you okay?"

The concern in his voice threw her off. No, she wanted to say, even as her lips formed as strangled, "Yes."

He hovered above her, eyes dark, pupils dilated. One calloused hand gripped her calf, fingers tightening as she stiffened. It was the closest she had ever been to another living being—or anything other than wind and rain and fresh air in all of her decades of life.

Heavy and ragged, his warm breath ghosted her shoulder. "Are you...sure?"

She struggled to nod. Her sisters had mentioned the pain; 'It might not be pleasant. You just have to bear it.'

"Go back," she gasped, grimacing as he rammed back within her before she'd even gotten out 'back.' "Just...go slower this time..."

However, the speed didn't seem to matter—not when she could feel him everywhere.

The pain was there, but it was almost welcome in comparison to the overwhelming sensation that was Dane, filling every single pore. He was heat and fire and power and an animalistic intensity he barely seemed able to suppress.

He was watching her, eyes a pure shade of obsidian. "Do you trust me?"

Deva choked, but the answer for from her lips before she could think it through. "Yes..."

"Good." Before she could protest he reached down and brushed her with a single finger.

The man must have worked with his hands; laid bricks or landscaped, or done some other kind of grueling, intensive labor. They were rough.

The friction made her grit her teeth. Her hips jerk.

With every sinful brush of those fingers, her legs drifted further apart and the wolfish gleam in his eyes intensified. Then, his hand withdrew and...he was inside of her again. It should have hurt, she supposed. Her flesh still stung, tender and stretched—but before she could even gasp in shock, his thumb grazed right above where they were joined.

Without her realizing it, her eyes found his.

Dark hair spilled down his shoulders, no less alarming than a full pelt of fur. That weathered face was the same—but those black eyes had been replaced by pure, molten silver. 'Danerus' was gone. The wolf was in control.

When he bucked his hips, sinking deep, there was no more restraint. No more care—and the rough sensation made Deva's eyes threaten to roll back into her head.

Never had she felt anything like it...a pleasure so raw it verged on pain. She arched into him, silently begging him to move, touch her, thrust again—anything. As if reading her mind, his calloused hands cupped her breasts. The edge of what felt like a thumb crested a peak, seized a nipple and rubbed, twisted and teased.

Deva thrashed, gasping out loud as he picked up the pace, caressing the stiffening nub until it stabbed at the air. Without a reprieve, he did the same to the other and then his mouth was at her neck, teeth scraping her skin as he groaned.

She had no time to even gasp for air. No time to collect her scattered senses. The next second, her entire body contracted, rippling...

It was all she could do to throw her head back and hang on, nails clenching the comforter. It went on and on, lasting until she was almost sobbing for relief—and the whole time he remained still against her, groaning into her skin.

It seemed to take ages before she could breathe again. Think. Form a coherent sentence.

Her sisters had warned her about the pain. Not this.

"Climax," Dane choked against her shoulder, as if sensing her confusion. "You had one."

His words were nearly unintelligible and his eyes were no longer black but pure silver.

The wolf was awake and Deva was at his mercy.

__________________

Dane was drowning in her. Her scent. Her heat. The nymph stirred the wolf inside like nothing else. He was losing control—but for the first time, the prospect didn't terrify him.

He withdrew until the head of his cock threatened to slip free of her channel. Then he lunged, sinking deep. Beneath him, Deva tensed, her body drawn as tight as a bow. She could have been in pain if it weren't for the slight way her body undulated to aid every stroke.

And then again.

And again...

He tried to slow down, tried to be gentle, but whenever his pace faltered Deva would twist, urging him to move again...and the animal instincts finally broke free.

Months of loneliness paired with her sweet heat had him undone in a matter of seconds. He could feel the ripples of her body beginning around him, revving for another climax and without thinking he reached down to where they were joined. His thumb navigated her slick folds until he found the nub of flesh that had her crying out.

"Dane—"

"Danerus," he rasped, just as the final tendrils of pleasure knocked him over. "Call me Danerus when you come again."

"Danerus!"

As she started to quiver around him, Dane finally let go. A hoarse shout tore from his throat and his orgasm took hold. He could only tremble, assaulted by wave after shuddering wave of pleasure, until he collapsed beside her.

His senses were abnormally heightened. He could even see every pore in Deva's smooth skin. It was only when his nostrils caught the faint scent of bleach lingering in the blankets that he remembered her brief explanation on Nymphs and their virtue...

She had said that a nymph's virginity was potent. And no wonder.

He felt more alive than he did even in wolf form. Every nerve in his body flared. He had to glance down at his body just to make sure that he hadn't actually shifted. Beside him, Deva was still, but her heart pounded so loudly that the sound ricocheted off his ear drums.

"You alright?" He asked.

"Yes." Her voice was even wispier, as if any minute she might have sprouted wings and floated away. "I'm...alright."

Dane wished he felt the same. Maybe then it would have been easier to get dressed and walk away?

"Was that...all you needed?"

"Yes," Deva replied. That curtain of hair shrouded her like a cloak, obscuring any glimpse of that pale skin. "Can you hand me my dress, please?"

He spotted the crumbled bit of white cotton on the floor though there wasn't much left of it.

"Sorry," he grunted, wrenching his own shirt over his head instead.

Deva took it wordlessly, but she didn't move until Dane turned back to face the wall. A second later he heard the rustle of the cotton against her skin.

For the first time, he realized how chilly the room was. Cold air stung his bare skin, along with a pair of green eyes he knew watched him without him even having to turn around. With a pinch of embarrassment, Dane knew exactly why.

The marks on his back would be visible, even in the darkness.

"I was on a camping trip," he said without prompting. "I was ten. It attacked us a little after midnight. I was the only one who survived..."

The scars on his back throbbed as if remembering the attack that had created them. After falling in with the creatures of the Underworld, he had learned that there was typically a three month delay from the time a human was bitten and when the werewolf curse set in. Just three weeks shy of his eleventh birthday he'd had his first change.

"You triggered early," Deva said.

He flinched as a soft touch caressed a jagged scar along his shoulder. His first instinct was to shrug her off—no one had seen him like this—but for some reason he couldn't move "Did you ever find the one who..."

Dane flinched. "No."

Even now, he didn't like to mingle with other werewolves.

"You've struggled."

Had the words come from anyone else, he would have been insulted, but...as her silky fingers traced his scars, he found that he felt nothing at all. Her breath was warm against his spine and he couldn't stop himself from mentally counting every breath.

"Can you 'sense' that?" He wondered.

"No..." Her fingers fluttered against his back. "I don't have to."

"What else do you 'not have' to sense about me?" He was genuinely curious. The thought of her being able to read his mind unnerved him, and yet... He almost wanted to know how she saw him—and why the hell she wasn't running away screaming.

"I can see your pain," she admitted. "How you've struggled with the change."

She started to trace another scar and Dane was shocked by how intimate that little touch felt. He would have been less alarmed if she'd palmed his cock.

"Don't," he croaked, though he wasn't exactly annoyed when she ignored him.

"It's so strange," she went on, "I've never read anyone like you before."

He scoffed at that. Of course, even a Nymph would think that he was fucked up. With nothing to shield the scars he felt naked. Bare. "Like how?"

"It's too...easy. I don't have to try with you."

Dane frowned. The frankness in her tone was what finally made him pull away.

"What happens now?"

"I don't know. I guess I tell Etienne that I..."

That she gave herself to a stranger—not to mention a werewolf. Not exactly a pleasant engagement gift.

"Will he hurt you?" Dane was surprised by how gruffly the words came out.

He turned, only to find her standing there, dressed in his shirt. On her, the black cotton fell down nearly to her knees.

"I don't know," she admitted. "I haven't really thought about it..."

"When will you go back?"

He hadn't meant for the words to come out sounding so hoarse and Deva didn't answer for the longest time.

"Thank you, Danerus," she said finally. "I can't...I don't..."

"You don't have to thank me."

Suddenly, the air between them felt thick and heavy. Charged.

"I should go."

It wasn't a question. When she didn't respond, Dane jerked in the direction of the door—but something kept him firmly rooted to the spot, even before she spoke.

"Wait..."

With quick, light steps that betrayed what she truly was, she darted across the room to where a dying plant wilted on the window sill. As he watched, she brushed a single finger along the sagging stem.

"I want to thank you."

As she spoke the plant changed. The sickly stalk became a healthy emerald and crumbled leaves spread apart. Before Dane even had the chance to blink, a white rose budded and bloomed.

"You don't have to take it, if you don't want to," Deva said as she gingerly coaxed the flower from the dirt.

Dane didn't hesitate. He crossed the room in two strides and took the rose, cradling his fingers around the smooth, thorn-less stalk. It smelled fragrant and real—nothing like the sickly odor of most magic.

"Thank you," he said, taking a step back.

"Thank you..."

Dane could feel those green eyes on the back of his neck, as he turned to the door. When he finally slipped through the doorway, rose in tow...

He didn't look back.

•••

About the Author: Lana_sky is the author of Drain Me, Dragonfly, Dirty Lyrics, Pretty Perfect, and many other stories. For more information about Lana check out her page