Spun Read Online Free PDF Page B

the hollow of her throat. Anja arched her back. She gripped his arms and tried to pull him closer. She wanted him to surround her, envelop her. She felt almost wanton, besotted.
    Her legs gave way, and she could no longer support her own weight. Tillz allowed her to sink slowly, following her to the floor.
    He drank of lips once more, then suddenly pulled away from her, panting. “Enough,” he said between heavy breaths. “We must stop this.” He held her away from him, and Anja felt the tightly thrumming energy in his arms.
    Anja wanted to protest, but she knew Tillz was right. She had given in to her momentary insanity, allowed her physical impulses to control her, but they must stop before things went too far. She breathed deeply and with effort, waited until her heart stopped beating so furiously. After many long minutes, her body had almost returned to normal again, yet still she wasn’t ready for Tillz to leave.
    She studied his face, bathed in firelight. She wanted to ask him if he felt it too, that inexplicable physical reaction when their bodies were near each other. She wondered if he had experienced it before, if he could explain it, because it was foreign and bewildering to her. She couldn’t bring herself to give voice to her questions, however, because she knew if she mentioned the attraction between them it would flare up again and she would want to taste him once more.
    She tried to distract herself by watching the flames dance around his dark hair, how they accentuated the hard lines of his face and jaw, the jagged edges of his scar. She saw the fire reflected in his eyes, and she felt hypnotized by their seemingly limitless depths. They were dark eyes, almost as dark as his hair, and Anja saw they held untold secrets. There was a hardness to them, as if they had seen many things best forgotten, and yet there was intelligence and compassion brimming there as well. Anja wanted to know the source of all of it—how the wariness and suspicion she saw in those eyes had come to be mixed in with everything else.
    “Why are you here?” Anja asked softly.
    Tillz regarded her silently for several heartbeats. “I have told you,” he said. “I have come to help you.”
    “Yes, but why?”
    Anja saw he was having an internal argument with himself, as if trying to decide how much to say. She thought for a moment he wasn’t going to tell her anything, that perhaps he would even leave without explanation, but then he spoke. “I have seen you many times when I have come into the village,” he said.
    Anja looked at him quizzically. “But I have never seen you before. Surely I would have noticed you since you are not exactly a subtle-looking figure.”
    The edges of Tillz’s mouth rose in a wry smile. “Yes, you would think I would be obvious with my height, the scar, yet I remain invisible when needed.”
    “Why? How—”
    Tillz cut off Anja’s questions with a dismissive wave. He clearly was not going to go into details about how or why he wanted to remain unseen in the village, and Anja decided not to press him, not just yet.
    “I have seen you at the mill, working into the night, milling the grain. I have watched you hunched over the ledgers, candle burning low, figuring the numbers until your fingers cramped.” Tillz took one of Anja’s hands in his, idly stroked her fingers, and Anja hoped her blush was not visible in the dim firelight. “And it pained me to see you laboring so hard while your father did nothing,” he said, and though Anja wanted to come to her father’s defense, she stayed silent.
    “I have walked past you as you talked and laughed with the village girls,” Tillz continued, “and I have admired how your mirth showed so readily on your face.” He ran his thumb along her cheek, and Anja shivered at his touch. “How your smile transforms your entire countenance, how your eyes crinkle at the corners when you laugh.”
    He studied her now, one hand under her chin, the other