I had never imagined Leonardo capable of tenderness. Qualities like compassion, kindness, even joy seemed entirely beyond his reach. Every aspect of him reminded me of solid, unyielding ice-from his indifferent expressions to his pale skin and dark, windswept hair.
So, when I caught his cheeks reddening and his crystalline eyes widening, I was taken aback. He raked a hand through his tousled hair, a tell that only surfaced when he was rattled, surprised, or overwhelmed. But just as quickly as that flicker of vulnerability appeared, he crushed it beneath his usual swagger, his lips curling into a smirk as he cast a sidelong glance at Emiliano.
“Treasure these moments,” Emiliano said, his voice solemn. “Danger’s on the way, and such precious times will be rare.” Then he disappeared into the trees, heading back toward the plume of smoke rising from the cabin chimney. When Leonardo’s gaze returned to me, it was intense, heavy enough to send an unwelcome flutter of nervousness through me.
What was I doing? I’d spent so long fighting this pull, resisting him, only to feel myself slipping just when I needed to hold fast. This was uncharted territory, a world of true-mates I had no experience navigating, and my own body was rebelling. My soul was restless, craving his touch, aching to close the distance between us. Blue, my wolf, was equally vulnerable to the pull, and neither of us seemed able to resist. I knew it wouldn’t be simple to let go of my past, yet the resistance I’d been holding onto felt thinner, almost hollow.
This moment was my white flag, a tentative first step. Earlier, I’d wounded him on purpose, flinging our bond back in his face as if I could ignore it myself. Now, I was here, trying-not sure what I was aiming for, but knowing I needed him close, whatever we were to one another.
Leonardo’s gaze remained locked on mine as he shrugged off his coat, every movement precise, unbroken by any flicker of distraction. His focus was like that-a singular, consuming presence. Right now, that focus was on me, every bit of it. It was as if I filled every corner of his thoughts, just as he flooded mine.
He’d always had a magnetism about him, a powerful draw, even back when I was young and curious about the boy with ice in his eyes. He was never fazed by the world, aloof in a way I found alluring but never understood. Part of me had always wondered if I’d ever see what was beneath that frost.
My pulse quickened as he tugged his shirt over his head. I couldn’t look away from his broad shoulders and muscular torso, chiseled in a way that made my heart race. Scars dotted his skin, small markers that told countless stories. He seemed like something ancient, sculpted from marble, standing there with his unyielding focus locked onto me. When his hands grazed the waistband of his pants, I turned away, my face hot, cheeks burning, suddenly all too aware of the temperature in the water. The lake steamed, the air heavy with swirling mist, and I tried to steady my breathing, willing the heat within me to settle.
I forced my gaze to the forest, counting branches and tracing tree trunks, anything to steady my thoughts. But despite myself, I was all too aware of his presence. When I heard him step into the water behind me, I tensed. His proximity was unmistakable, his deep voice drifting through the steam, rich with amusement.
“Getting shy, kitten?” he teased, his voice close. I kept my eyes fixed forward, determined not to give him the satisfaction. “Didn’t think you’d be the shy type.”
“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think,” I shot back, my voice steady but my pulse racing.
“I intend to change that,” he replied, his voice even closer now, rich with promise.
I took a shallow breath, bracing myself, but my body betrayed me, drawn to the magnetic pull of his presence. I finally turned, unable to resist. His dark hair clung to his head, soaked, droplets tracing paths along his skin, trailing down his muscular frame and pooling at his waist. My gaze flickered to the waterline before I quickly glanced back up, cursing myself for even looking.
He noticed-of course, he noticed. But instead of the smug remark I half-expected, his eyes shifted, darkening, a storm brewing in their depths. His gaze grew heavy, and I felt the tremor return to my hands. There was no pretending; with one look, he shattered any remaining resistance.
“I want to know you, Isabella,” he murmured, gliding closer, his voice low and rough. I couldn’t move. His scent, fresh and clean like snowmelt, filled the space between us, drowning out the rest of the world.
“I want to know everything-your dreams, your fears, what you think about when you’re alone at night,” he continued, his hand rising, brushing a strand of hair from my cheek. His voice held a depth that sank into me, uncovering places I hadn’t shown anyone. “I want to know you better than you know yourself. I want it all, kitten.”
His words filled the silence around us, steady and unwavering. The weight of his promise hung between us, unspoken yet undeniably real.