Page 12 of Born for Silk

Seeing him in the flesh. Smelling him.

Stunned, I nod my head. “Yes, of course.”

His gaze holds me arrested. “Then”—he stretches the word with no mirth— “why hesitate, little creature?”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “It’ll hurt.”

“Have you not been given any Opi?”

It is like the others in the room have faded away, leaving only him and me. Captured in a time apart from all others.

“The others have applied it topically, but— But I’m allergic,” I say softly.

His brows draw in as though he is recalling a painful moment or reliving a feeling, then— “I see,” he states, calm resurfacing. “Hereditary, I imagine. From your mother’s side?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Your name?”

I look at his hands, still warming my arms. Why are they still there? I like it. But why?

“Aster.” I breathe. “Like a flower.” I look up at him again. “We are all just flowers, not like you, my king. You’re a city from the old-world. Everyone important is named after a city from the old-world.”

I don’t know why I said that.

He doesn’t need a history lesson.

My head feels as if I inhaled a cloud and now my thoughts are surrounded by white and confusion.

“Just a little flower?” He frowns, the question so curt it stirs the energy around us.

I simply nod, enraptured. “Yes.”

His palms slide down the length of my arms, leaving one to circle the column of my wrist. He could squeeze it to dust, his grip so encompassing.

“Would you like me to hold your hand, little Silk Girl?”

I think I nod.

The next few moments I meander through in a dream state. He presses my wrist to the tattoo table, and I anchor myself to his gaze—almost feline. Lots of Xin De have glowing irises.

Unbinding my wrist from his grip, he moves his hand to blanket mine, pinning me to the counter.

“Gentle with my property or you’ll discover the true meaning of pain,” he orders the man, though his eyes haven’t wavered from me.

He holds my hand.

I hold my breath.

Heat from his palm radiates into my skin.

The buzzing starts, his eyes anchor me, pain from the needle fires, dark intent rolls through his gaze, and I practically moan against my conflicting senses. Warm discomfort pools in my bellybutton. Blue eyes pierce through me to my bones deeper than any needle.

Everything is hot.

Painful and pleasant.

And his eyes.