“And now?”
“Now I’m wondering if I was just waiting for the right person to come along.” She looks at me over the rim of her mug, and the honesty in her eyes is almost too much to bear. “Someone worth the risk.”
The words hit me like arrows, each one finding its mark in the defenses I’ve built around my heart. She sees too much, this human woman. Sees past the crown and the power to the loneliness I’ve carried for centuries.
“You should sleep,” I say, my voice rougher than I intend. “The storm won’t break until morning, and you need rest.”
She nods, though I can see the disappointment in her eyes at my retreat. “Where should I…?”
“My bed.” The words are out before I can think better of them. “I’ll take the chair.”
“Aelin, I can’t take your bed.”
“You can and you will.” I stand abruptly, needing to put distance between us before I give in to the urge to join her there. “You nearly died tonight. You need proper rest.”
She rises as well, the fur clutched around her like armor, and for a moment we stand there in the firelight, the air thick with everything we’re not saying. I could cross to her in two steps, could gather her in my arms and carry her to my bed as I’ve fantasized about doing. Could claim what the bond insists is already mine.
Instead, I step back.
“Goodnight, Jessa.”
“Goodnight,” she whispers, and disappears into my bedroom, taking all the warmth in the room with her.
I settle into the chair with a blanket, but sleep is impossible. Every sound from the next room draws my attention—the rustle of sheets, her soft sigh as she settles into the mattress, the steady rhythm of her breathing as she finally succumbs to exhaustion.
She’s in my bed. Surrounded by my scent, wrapped in linens that have touched my skin. The knowledge is both torture and the sweetest pleasure I’ve ever known.
Hours pass. The fire burns low, and still I sit vigil, watching over her sleep like the guardian I’ve somehow become. Through the bedroom doorway, I can see her silhouette beneath the covers, one arm flung over her head in unconscious abandon.
Beautiful.Mine.
The bond hums between us, satisfied for the first time since it awakened. She’s here, in my sanctuary, safe and warm and close enough to touch. For now, it’s enough.
But as dawn approaches and the storm finally weakens, I know this reprieve is temporary. Soon she’ll wake, and I’ll have to take her home, back to the world where she belongs. Back to the careful distance I’ve tried so hard to maintain.
The thought fills me with something that might be grief.
Twenty days left until the Solstice. Twenty days to decide if I’m strong enough to let her go, or selfish enough to keep her.
Looking at her sleeping form, golden in the dying firelight, I fear I already know the answer.
CHAPTER 7
JESSA
Something’s wrong with Aelin.
Or maybe something’s right with him, and that’s what’s making my pulse race like a hummingbird’s wings every time he looks at me.
I notice it the moment I wake up in his bed—God, his bed, surrounded by his scent and the lingering warmth of furs that smell like winter and pine and something indefinably him. The storm has passed, leaving the world outside crystalline and pristine, but inside the lodge, the air thrums with a different electricity.
He’s standing by the fireplace when I emerge from his bedroom, wrapped in the fur like a makeshift robe, and the sight of him stops me cold. He looks… dangerous. More so than usual. His dark hair falls across his forehead in waves that make my fingers itch to touch, and when he turns to look at me, those golden eyes burn with an intensity that makes my stomach clench with want.
“Good morning,” I say, my voice still rough with sleep, and watch the way his jaw tightens at the sound.
“Morning.” His voice is different too—deeper, rougher, like he’s been gargling gravel. “How did you sleep?”
“Like the dead.” I stretch, letting the fur slip slightly off one shoulder, and don’t miss the way his gaze tracks the movement. “Your bed is incredibly comfortable.”
