“It’salwaysan ambush with you.”
I grunt.
She smirks. “You growled at abirdearlier.”
“It was circling too low.”
“It was a sparrow.”
“It wassuspicious.”
She laughs under her breath, and damn me, it’s the best sound I’ve heard since she moaned my name.
But underneath her teasing, there’s something taut. Her hands are too tight on the reins. Her eyes flick to the horizon more often than usual.
She’s shaken.
And that…does somethingto me.
Because I’m not used to seeing her like that. Not River. She’s always been steel and stone, sharp edges and sharper words. The kind of woman who can burn down a kingdom with a glance.
Now, she’s just a little too quiet. A little toocareful.
I rein in closer.
“You alright?”
She doesn’t look at me. “Fine.”
“Didn’t ask if you werefine.Asked if you werealright.”
There’s a difference. One she knows damn well.
She sighs. “Just thinking.”
“About?”
She hesitates. “Everything.”
Not a lie. But not the full truth either.
I don’t press.
Because I know that look—lips pressed thin, jaw clenched. It’s the one she gets when she’s trying not to feel too much. When she’s afraid that if she starts talking, she might not stop.
So instead, I stay close. Close enough that my horse’s flank brushes hers. She lets it happen.
It’s not enough.
Nothing is.
My mind replays last night in pieces. Her hands in my hair. Her thighs around my waist. The way she looked up at me—sawme—not just the monster or the muscle or the weapon, but theman.
No one’s ever done that before.
Not really.
Not and meant it.
