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VIOLET
She cracked her eyes open, still sluggish from her dream. She’d expected to be back in the bridal chambers, and her heart was stumbling too fast in her chest. The warm air that caressed the side of her neck sent goosebumps across her back, and a blanket of seawater and peppermint wrapped her in an embrace that chased away the lingering panic from her limbs.
She inched back, stretching toward the furnace behind her, trying to bury herself deep in its embers to melt the cold that wracked her bones. The chattering of her teeth registered in her mind as large fingers trailed over the flimsy fabric of her chemise. The palm of a wide hand flattened over her belly and pulled her back toward a rigid torso that was all male. Butterflies flew in her stomach, and her skin tingled with a sudden awareness as she pressed the curve of her ass against him.
His breath stuttered, and his hand—still resting on her stomach—held her in place. Even with the pain throbbing in her hip, her body longed for more than it should have.
Was she awake or stuck in a haze of delusion? Surely Gavin wouldn’t be so bold as to lie with her.
“Are you really here?” Violet whispered. She didn’t want him to go. Instead, she craved more, for him to pull her back and press himself where she wanted to feel him.
He shifted away from her. “I’m just here for body heat. I’ll be gone once your temperature is stable.”
Gavin was trying to save her, and she couldn’t fight him over it. But that didn’t mean she’d like that she was now indebted to him. Magic came at a price, and if they used their power without rest wielders like themselves always had a breaking point. Gavin was surely nearing his, since he’d been healing her for hours. He had to be spent by now.
Violet sighed while magic continued to heal her from within, thawing the ice in her blood. Before long, she’d gone somewhere that even dreams couldn’t haunt her. Somewhere pleasant. Darkness.
When she next blinked her eyes open, she flinched with the bright sun that spilled over her and the unfamiliar room. She sat slowly, catching the woolen blanket that draped over her chest, letting the cold of the room nip at her skin. A wave of nausea crawled up her gut, and she covered her face with her icy hands, breathing in the iron tang of blood clinging to her skin.
“Easy there.” Gavin’s voice startled her, and she tried to jump out of bed. In her weakened state, the blanket caught on her legs. She cursed and stumbled, but large hands held her before she could tumble to the floor.
Her breath caught in her throat, as pain surged through her healing wound whenever she moved. She’d searched for his warmth during the night—exactly the opposite of what she was supposed to do.
“I’m fine,” she said, and pushed his hands off her body as fragments of the previous night came back to her in her daze. “I can do this.”
“Glad to see that.” He didn’t pursue her further, but slipped out of bed in one smooth move. His shirt hung over his shoulders, crumpled from sleeping in it. It was no longer a clean gray, but stained with her blood. Its open collar revealed the expanse of his chest, dusted with dark hair.
She hated how curious she was to follow the dusky trail of it further down. Shaking her head, she pushed away the blanket to stand—but stopped when the room started spinning again.
She looked back at Gavin. The sleepless night had drained his skin of its natural warmth, and a blue tinge darkened the bottom rim of his eyes. “If you’re determined to get up, do it slowly. You lost a lot of blood and were pretty sick most of the night.”
Violet took a deep breath and pressed her lips together tightly when warmth spread in her chest. “Thank you. For helping me.”
He raised his brows, looking at her like she was about to grow an extra head. “A thank you? Perhaps you won’t kill me after all.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t push it.”
Gavin grinned, shaking his head as he stepped toward the table covered in his healing potions. He inspected the labels on each vial with a growing frown. Mind still foggy with sleep, Violet limped her way over to where her clothes lay in a pile of brown and black, spotted with accents of dark burgundy. They were stiff with dried blood when she picked them up.
Violet scrunched her nose, any thoughts of an immediate escape dashed. She’d have to wait until she could wash these. She needed to blend in with the men in her old assembly, not become one of them. Actually, on closer inspection, she’d have to replace the pants entirely. That was right—Gavin had cut them open. Had said her life was on the line… “I don’t understand why I reacted this way to a flesh wound. It’s not the first time I’ve been hurt like this…”
“The cut went deep. You’re lucky that we weren’t too far from the inn. The lack of proper winter attire didn’t exactly improve matters.”
That sounded like she was only here still thanks to him and his healing magic, not that she was going to thank him again. She wouldn’t point out that she would have been fine if he hadn’t shown up at the tavern and chased her outside. Not after he’d been up all night, tending to her.
She prodded at the gauze and winced, shifting her weight to her good side as she limped toward the washroom. The noise of life out in the streets filtered through the closed window, and she could see snow from the storm last night piled high on the ledge.
By the time she returned, clean and wrapped in a flimsy towel that barely covered her ass, Gavin was sitting on the floor with a bowl of steaming stew in his hands.
How long had it taken her to wash up? He didn’t have enough time to fetch them food. She guessed for someone born to money, Gavin could have paid the inn to bring them lunch to their room.
His smoldering gaze traced along every inch of her body that wasn’t covered by the linen cloth she was wrapped in or her dripping wet hair. There was something intense in his eyes that hadn’t been there the night before, and that alone had her stumbling on her first step into the room.
Violet wasn’t one to favor modesty, and she was confident in the curves of her body and her athletic figure. Even so, she pulled the edge of the towel down, making sure it covered her as she shuffled over to the bed.
“Your food is on the table.” He looked down, one of his hands brushing his hair out of his forehead. “The maid brought it up a few minutes ago. It should still be warm.”
Her chest warmed as she peered at the tray of food next to her. Even after all her sly remarks, Gavin got her food. She wished he’d stopped being so nice. It was difficult to keep on thinking of him as an enemy this way.
