She ignored me, climbing on the bed and pulling a book from her pack. “Why don’t we take turns with that bath? There’s warm water. It’s one reason I like this inn.” She nodded toward the tub. “You can go first.” Curling her legs onto the bed, Seren opened the book.
“Is this your polite way of saying I stink? You didn’t seem to mind so much a minute ago.”
Her eyes flicked to me for half a second—just long enough to see me unbuckling my belt—before she stubbornly returned to her book.
I bit back a grin. “Don’t worry. I won’t use up all the hot water. Just most of it.”
Seren rolled her eyes, but the faint curve of a smile betrayed her. “Go ahead, Rykr. You can wash off all that arrogance while you’re at it.”
That’s it then.
We were back to pretending. Back to ignoring the kiss that had left us both breathless.
So be it.
That was safer. She’d run to the bed like a frightened rabbit who’d almost been ensnared.
But sleeping next to her—because there wasn’t really space on the floor—was going to be its own kind of battle. And if I lost that battle, neither of us would come out unscathed.
Because I’d been wrong. One taste of Seren Ragnall would never be enough.
Chapter 29
Seren
The weight of something large, heavy, and unfamiliar rested on my hip and I stirred, only dimly aware of my surroundings.
The Bellwether. The bed meant for one.
Rykr.
Drawing a shallow breath, I tried not to move. I couldn’t blame him for curling his arm around my waist as we slept but he’d also unconsciously dragged us closer together. My ass was tucked neatly into his groin, his knees were pushed into the back of mine, and his foot was draped over mine.
Warm, intimate. Too close.
If we really were husband and wife, I would have rocked myself back against him. Through the thin fabric of my shirt over my backside, the hardness of his cock pressed against me. It was tempting. Waking up like this in a lover’s arms would have been exhilarating, welcome.
But Rykr wasn’t my lover.
He wasn’t my real husband, either, no matter what Tara had implied.
Even if we survived the Skorn, he wouldn’t stay.
And if I let him leave, I’d be a traitor. Especially if his plan was to return to Lirien and warn his people of the war Haldron was planning.
The consequences of his escape … I suppressed a shudder. I wouldn’t think about that yet. If I did, I might lose my nerve.
What had I expected, really? That saving his life might mean something? That Rykr, of all people, would give up Lirien for me?
Fool. I was never seen as anything special. Needed. Anything other than a pretend warrior. The thought cut deep, but I shoved it aside. Feelings had no place here.
What mattered was breaking the bond, to give us each the best chance at survival. Imagining anything else was a dangerous fantasy. I would never force him to stay. Which is exactly why I need to get out of this bed.
Carefully, I reached for the small satchel of Ibarran spell powder on the nightstand. Dipping my fingertips inside, I took a small dusting and turned toward Rykr. I whispered a spell, then blew the dust from my fingertips toward his face. It settled there with a faint blue glow, then vanished.
The sleeping spell would deepen his rest, making it easier for me slip free.
With clever, slow-paced maneuvering, I got out of bed. Only when I was dressed and easing into the hallway, though, did I finally let myself breathe.
