I spoke in my previous post about Freygard. Well this scene happens only a couple of pages into the book when Nerya meets Jaden for the very first time.
Nerya pushed the door shut and glanced toward the bed. By the gods! She’d expected a warrior, but not this. Chained to the bed was the most threateningly masculine creature she’d ever laid eyes on in her entire life.
She stepped over to the table and poured herself a large goblet of wine. After drinking it down in a couple of swallows, Nerya pulled herself together and turned to examine him again. The slave lounged against the pillows, seeming untroubled by his plight. He was totally naked apart from a blue linen tunic draped across his groin, and his obsidian eyes stared at her in a disdainful, almost predatory manner that angered her and yet oddly enough stimulated her at the same time.
This one would be a challenge—there was no doubt about that.
Nerya never underestimated her opponents in battle, and she had no intention of underestimating this slave. He was dangerous. She wanted to face a man like this fully armored and with a sword in her hand, not in the coupling chamber skimpily clad in only a thin linen tunic.
It was difficult to gauge his height when he was sitting on the bed, legs outstretched, but he appeared to be at least a head or so taller than her. His skin had a dusky tint, looking even darker compared to the pristine whiteness of the linen sheet. She supposed if she were to consider him objectively, he was in fact a fine specimen. His body was a mass of corded muscle, with a wide, well-defined chest, narrow waist and lean hips. She had to admit she was somewhat relieved to see his arms were held fast above his head by chains.
She took another sip of wine, trying to ignore the fact he was curiously examining her as she examined him. She felt an unwanted warmth color her cheeks. Why was she letting this situation trouble her so much? The slave’s appearance had no bearing on this coupling. All she should be concerned about was that he had a good physique and was most likely a formidable warrior; therefore his seed should be powerful.
Yet he had the gall to lounge there staring insolently at her, displaying none of the expected demeanor of a slave, and her cheeks became even warmer as she realized he stared intently at her breasts. The damp linen tunic stuck to her full curves and, under the thin covering, her nipples hardened into firm peaks. “Don’t stare at me, slave,” she snapped.
Oddly enough, for a man he was remarkably pleasing to the eye. His features were strong and symmetrical, his cheekbones high and well-defined, while his nose was straight and aquiline. His mouth was maybe a little too wide, but not girlishly full, and his long, raven-black hair fell in a silky mass around his shoulders. It was his eyes that troubled her most as he stared at her with such insolence it almost took her breath away.
He was bold and appeared unafraid, something she wasn’t accustomed to in a slave. Nerya was suddenly tempted to run her fingers over his dusky skin and gauge the strength of his muscles that appeared to be carved from something far harder than living flesh. She’d never seen a slave as magnificent as this creature and now, for some inexplicable reason, the blood began to sing wildly through her veins.
Deanna Ashford http://deanna-ashford.com/