Something snapped inside him. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to steady his spinning vision. The urge to pull her into his arms, to devour her in one swift move, was overpowering.
But he forced himself to reign it in, cooling the fire raging through him. When he finally opened his eyes, their vibrant crimson had faded to dull gray—the ashen remnants of a tree burned to its roots. A bitter smile tugged at his lips.
“Now is not the right time,” he said.
The memory of her frail, feverish body flashed through his mind. Watching her teeter on the brink of death had been agony. And then there was the blood—even the thought of it made his veins run cold. That wasn’t something he could allow to happen again.
He gazed at her intently, reaching out to gently brush his thumb over her cheek. “Let’s focus on your recovery for now. You’re still quite exhausted, aren’t you?” he asked. His tone was firm yet gentle, careful not to wound her pride.
