Selfishly.
He dumps an armful of firewood on a pile, then pauses, looking to the side, as though he’s listening to a secret whispered on the wind.
I lean closer to the window, biting down on another soul-melting berry as he dashes sweat from his forehead, then walks to an axe lodged in a stump. He rips it free.
My heart stills.
It glints in the sunlight as he swings it high, his entire body a force of rippling brawn, followed by the splitting sound of the stump breaking apart.
Avoid.
I turn from the scene, rubbing the tightness from my chest, bowl of berries forgotten.
Seeking a distraction, I walk to the stack of weapons and run my fingers along the lengths of some short spears, a dagger, and a plain thin sword. The entire thing is shorter than my arm and riddled with nicks and dents, but when I grip the unbound hilt, holding the sword before me, it feels balanced in my hand.
“Not bad,” I murmur.
I move farther along the workbench, stealing another glance at Rhordyn through the window, enjoying the way his powerful body moves as he picks up a piece of half-split wood and pulls it apart with his bare hands—so beautifully barbaric. A delicious shiver crawls down my spine and settles between my legs, making me ache in places that send a flush of warmth to my cheeks.
My hand sweeps across the coarse bristles of something, and I cut my gaze to a brush, its handle bound in a Bahari blue hairband. My blood curdles as I’m battered by thoughts of Cainon’s hands in my hair, taming it into tight braids that made my scalp hurt.
Avoid.
I shake my head in sharp, jerky motions, trying to rattle the thoughts off their perch, flicking another hateful glance at my cupla. I try to tug it free again while scanning the collection of tools poked into small, hollowed-out stumps.
My eyes narrow on a chisel and hammer.
Perhaps I can … chip it loose?
Finding an oily rag in one of the containers, I wrap it around the chisel’s handle, set the sharp end against the cupla’s chain, and curl my fingers around like a claw, keeping the chisel in place. I aim the hammer, stealing a quick glance at Rhordyn before I swing at the same time he does.
My feeble grip on the chisel slips, the sharp end slashing a gash in my wrist before clattering to the floor.
“Shit.”
Wincing, I use the cloth to stem the blood, Cainon’s cupla still firmly clamped around my wrist.
Well, that was a waste of time.
“What are you doing?”
I almost leap out of my skin, knocking the hammer onto the floor in a clatter. My cheeks burn as I turn to face Rhordyn in the doorway, stuffing my hands behind my back, heart pounding hard and fast.
He’s all bulging muscles tailored to perfection, sweat running through the trail of dark hair that threads a line from his belly-buttondown …
“Orlaith.”
My eyes snap up, delving into his fathomless black pools.
I yearn to see the silver again. I don’t know why he’s hiding it from me.
“Nothing,” I blurt, tightening my grip on the cloth. “Where are we?”
He walks forward, slowly.
Predatorily.
The hairs on the back of my neck lift.
