Page 105 of Feralheart

Her hair lay plastered to her skull. It wasn’t raining, which meant she’d been somewhere with enough water to drench herself completely.

Her hand didn’t leave the hilt.

“I, um…went through a waterfall.”

“A what?”

“Nothing.”

I shoved out a huff and tried not to notice the exact slope of her collarbones where the wet outfit molded to her skin. Her breasts…

I forced my gaze up to her face.

Too late. She’d seen me looking.

“Stealing from the fortress kitchens is a bold move,” I said, nudging my chin toward the half-filled bag lying on the counter.

“Are you going to report me?” Her voice held no inflection, and I was surprised she wasn’t scared. She actually sounded tired.

Well, so was I, but I wasn’t stealing food from the kitchen.

“Should I?” I bit out.

“You didn’t report the men who tried to kill me.”

My jaw tightened. She had me there, and she knew it.

“That was different,” I said.

“How?”

I’d disposed of the bodies and—so far—no one appeared aware I’d killed two men in the gardens. My crew had tidied the grass and kept the job to themselves.

I plucked at her saturated tunic sleeve. “Where did you go tonight?”

She wrenched away from me, taking a few stumbling steps backward. “Does it matter?”

I followed. My body moved before my brain caught up, closing the space she’d tried to create. Her back hit the counter, and I was there, bracing my palms on either side of her waist, leaning in close enough to note her long eyelashes.

“Tell me where you were.”

Her chin lifted. “No.”

Her defiance made heat crawl up my spine even though I was standing in a cold kitchen at midnight. It made me want to crowd her until she had to tip her head back to hold my gaze.

“If you run around in wet clothing, you’re going to catch your death,” I said.

“Worried about me, Your Highness?”

The title should’ve driven a wedge between us. Instead it felt like a secret only we knew.

My gaze dropped to her mouth. Her lips had parted, and her breathing came uneven.

Every rule I’d ever learned told me to step back.

I leaned closer instead.

Her hand remained on her blade. But her other hand came up to press flat against my chest. Resting there. I could feel my heartbeat slamming against her palm.