Flight of the Raven

So instead he had leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead, then pulled her closer and breathed in the scent of her hair and skin.

In that moment, Selene quietly moved into that empty place in his heart left by the death of his family.

She glanced up. “Are you sure about that? I’m not like other ladies, Damien. My time at Rook Castle was spent training to fight, dreamwalk, and infiltrate a room at night. I have no idea how to embroider or paint or serve tea—”

Damien closed the gap between them and cupped her chin, lifting her face to meet his own. “Those kinds of things don’t matter to me.”

Selene couldn’t move or breathe. It was like her body had forgotten how.

He raised an eyebrow. “If you want to learn any of those pastimes, feel free. But they are not what make a lady.” His thumb stroked her cheek. “All right?”

“Yes.” The room was beginning to spin, and there was a rushing sound inside her ears.