And I'm letting her. Pressing closer. Head dropping. Curling toward her.
People stop talking when I enter a room. Lower their eyes.
She's scratching my ears and telling me I need a brush.
A whimper from across the camp. One of the pups—the smallest, brown and clumsy. Limping on a front paw. Rock or thorn.
Her hands stop.
Her body angling away.
"Aww, poor guy." Her voice drops. Not to me. To herself. "Probably nothing, though. Could be a thorn. I'll check in the morning."
She turns back. Hands find my neck again.
A shiver runs through her. Then another. Small, trying to hide it.
She's cold.
The weight shifts. Toward her. My body pressing against her side, then folding—chest against her thigh, head coming to rest across her lap. Heavy. Too heavy for someone small. I start to pull back.
Her hands catch my shoulders. Press me down. "No—stay. That is a lot of wolf on me, but in a good way. You're warm. You're very warm. Stay."
I stay.
Her hands settle in the coat. The shivering slows. Stops.
"Oh." Smaller voice. "That's—ohhh."
Heat building where my body covers hers. Her fingerstighten in my ruff. Loosen.
"This is the most ridiculous thing that's ever happened to me." Quieter. "And I have a pink chicken."
Her shoulders drop. Muscles letting go.
"Keer." Barely a whisper. "M'not falling asleep."
She's falling asleep.
Her hand slows in my coat. The beat in her chest shifts—sharp and fast to long and slow.
She tilts forward. Cheek coming to rest against the dense coat over my shoulder. Small. Her breath against me.
Don't move.
Chapter 11
My bed.
That's the first thing. Warm blanket, soft mattress, the morning light through the thin curtain. I did not go to sleep in my bed.
I sit up.
The shirt is still around me—heavy linen, smelling like him. Nugget is asleep in her basket by the door. The fire is low. Everything tucked in for the night.
By him.
I watched him fold the shirt and set it on the bench before he shifted. The smell confirms it before anything else does.
