Panic clawed up her throat. “Yes! I want your help. Wait!”
Deyric turned his face up to stare at the stars as if asking the heavens for patience, and his fingers pinched the bridge of his nose before he finally exhaled and slid from the horse’s back.
He approached slowly, arms folding over his chest. “You need my help?”
Emmaline scowled, nails digging into her palms. “Need?!”
Deyric lifted a single eyebrow.
Her jaw clenched.Pick your battles, Emmaline.
“Yes, Deyric. I need your help.” She wrestled the words out between her teeth.
“Say, please.”
Emmaline’s eye twinged. “You have got to be joking.”
He waited, expression impassive.
She gritted her teeth. “Fine. Please.”
He made a vague rolling motion with his hand. “The whole thing.”
“Are you serious?”
His brows lifted.
“Fine! Please, Deyric, I need your help.”
Deyric smiled. “And I’m most grateful.”
She practically vibrated with suppressed anger. “And. I’m. Most. Grateful.”
He tapped a finger against his lips. “And I’d like another spanking.”
“WHAT?!” Her fury ignited. “You arrogant, insufferable, thick-skulled son of a—”
Deyric shrugged, entirely unbothered, and turned back toward the horse.
“Hey! Wait!” She cut off mid-rant.
He paused just long enough to glance back, eyes twinkling. “Well, come on then. We need to make it back before the moon crests the ridge. Can’t ride Thumper in full dark. He could hurt himself. And I dare say you’d rather not spend the night alone with me while we wait for dawn.”
Emmaline opened her mouth. Shut it. Opened it again. “Oh. Well, yes. That would be… bad.”
She took a step and immediately winced, nearly toppling forward as another jolt of pain shot up her ankle. Deyric rolled his eyes and strode toward her. Without a word, he stopped in front of her—too close—and held out his arms.
“May I?”
Her brain short-circuited. The heat of his body radiated between them. The scent was nearly overwhelming—of leather, horse, and something darker, smokier like embers still glowing in a fire long after the flames had died.
She swallowed. “Yes.”
The word had barely left her lips before he scooped her up, arms locking around her like iron. The world tilted, though this time she didn’t fall; his hold was steady and unshakably solid. For a brief, traitorous moment, she liked it.
Safe. Strong. Her head spun.Must be the head wound.
She let it rest against his chest, just for a second, just until the dizziness passed. The firm press of muscle beneath his tunic and the steady thump of his heartbeat were strangely comforting. And that damn scent—smoky cedar and something wilder, something untamed—wrapped around her senses, making it difficult to breathe.
