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Where had that thought come from? My insides decompressed. The notion made sense as every part of my body sank into calm. I wanted him to touch me.
My thoughts were irrational.
One brush from his pinkie, and I knew it’d do me in.
For some reason, I couldn’t pass that up. I wanted to be undone by Caedryn. I wanted him to torment me. Reach out just enough to send electricity through the rest of my body. Shock my system until it rewired. Oh please. Yes. His maddening touch was what I needed. What I craved.
It might not be the best thing for me.
I wasn’t healed. Opening myself up for Caedryn to tease wasn’t doing me or Caedryn any favors.
It was destructive.
I looked at the hand that had grasped his earlier. One touch conveyed so much.
So much desperation.
So much need—on both our ends.
I turned left.
Caedryn didn’t open the door for me. I slipped into the room in the dark. I knew he lay there, on his stomach, huddled over his pillows. I coiled around the one conveniently left on my side of the bed, and my hand fell into the space between us.
His hand was not there.
But I heard his breathing. He was awake, waiting for me. I tried not to imagine the gloating on his face.
He had been expecting me.
Victory two for Caedryn.
No matter. I knew we’d be touching by morning.
I smiled. A victory for me.
FIFTY-ONE
Caedryn was stuck in my head. He wasn’t getting out. All day, during patient care, between patient visits, and while trekking through the snow and down the halls. To my infirmary and back. Caedryn stayed in the citadel, but he remained busy. His men came and went. Reports were given. Riders arrived and left. I passed Caedryn in the halls in the evenings. We ate dinner together and talked quietly. He read to me before a roaring fire in the main library.
We went to bed, his bed. Every single night.
In the morning our hands touched.
The same every day.
He was torturing me, I was sure of it.
The slow, gnawing torture of the damned because this was what I was sure I had become.
He no longer cried out in the night. That was the only reason, the only justification, I gave for continuing my torture.
Because he slept.
Yes, your presence might be all I require.
I was the key. How could his relief be so simple?
The knowledge unhinged me.
