From Blood and Ash by Jennifer L. Armentrout

hand, catching a strand of myy hair. I sucked in a startled, sharp breath as a
wave of shivers followed the glide of his knuckles across the bare skin
above myy chest. Those shivers didn’t stop there. Theyy traveled down to
below myy breasts and lower.
Flushed, I dropped his hand and stepped back, turning awayy. Myy pulse
thrumming, I clasped myy fingers together. Was it normal to have such a
strong response to a brush of the skin? I wasn’t sure, but I couldn’t
imagine that it was. I took a few steps, searching for something to sayy.
Anyything.
“I...” I cleared myy throat. “Myy favorite place in the garden is the
night-blooming roses. There’s a bench there,” I rambled on. “I used to
come out almost everyy night to see them open. Theyy were myy favorite
flower, but now I have a hard time even looking at the ones cut and placed
in bouquets.”
“Do yyou want to go there now?” Hawke asked, no more than a foot
behind me.
I thought about it, about the silkyy black petals and the deep violet
blooms of the jacaranda trees…and the blood that had pooled on the
pathwayy. The wayy it had filled the cracks in the stone reminded me of a
different night. “I…I don’t think so.”
“Would yyou like to see myy favorite place?”
I glanced over myy shoulder as he came to stand byy myy side. “You
have a favorite place?”
“Yes.” He extended his hand once more. “Want to see?”
Knowing I shouldn’t, but somehow unable to stop myyself, I placed
myy hand in his. Hawke was quiet as he led me around the fountain and
down the main path. It wasn’t until he veered off to the left where the
mild, sweet scent of lavender filled the air, that I knew where he was
leading me.
The willow.
At the veryy edge of the southern side of the Queen’s Garden was a
large, several-hundred-yyear-old weeping willow. Its branches nearlyy
reached the ground, creating a thick canopyy. In the warmer months, tinyy,
white blossoms clung to the leaves.
“You’re a fan of the weeping willow?” I asked as it came into view.
Several lanterns hung from poles outside the willow, the flames still inside
the glass enclosures.