With Fingers Gray and Cold
Page 2
trip.
"Excuse me," a woman said behind him, very nearly in his ear.
Marten jumped and gave a shout of alarm. She was young, but not dangerously so. Hair dark, cascading to her waist, framed a face so achingly creamy and unblemished that Marten fought the urge to reach out and touch her skin. She wore a long-sleeved crimson dress with a plunging neckline, showcasing a bright ruby nestled snuggly into the hollow of her throat. Her cheeks blossomed like roses and her red lips parted in a smile, revealing perfect teeth. In a world gone cold and white, she was the promise of summer. Blood crept into his cheeks. "Erm... yes?"
"You're not leaving already? But you've only just arrived."
"Yes, well. It seems there is a lack of interest in my offerings here."
"Not for all who call Hodgersville home. I find you quite interesting. Unusual, even. This town can be so dull."
Unusual? Was that a complement? "I should probably be on my way, while there is yet light to see by."
"But the road is so long and the next town far. Stay a night or three." She stepped closer. She smelled like sunshine.
Almost before he realized what he was doing, Marten put a hand around her waist and pulled her against him. She made a low sound like a growl and lunged at his lips, her mouth wet and desperate. He lost himself in her smell and taste. She ground against him, moaning under his mouth. Trembling.
They broke apart, gasping. With a look, she took his hand and led him toward the inn at something quite like a run.