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“No.”

I sighed and leaned back against the carriage seat, relaxing for what remained of the ride. If she couldn’t hope, then I would hold the hope for her.

As we stepped out of the stagecoach in front of Magdalena’s cottage in the woods, Magdalena looked at Aura as though she wanted to hug her. Aura looked absolutely miserable. Her face was flushed, hands wrapped around herself like she was afraid she’d otherwise fall apart. Magdalena pressed the key into my hand and we parted ways, Magdalena heading next door to her neighbor’s house like we’d discussed on the way to the inn for Aura.

As we stepped into the house, I took to lighting candles around the room. “Do you know which room is Magdalena’s bedroom?” I asked Aura.

She looked at me through heavy lidded eyes, but her brows furrowed. “No,” she said. “I’m not— No.”

“She gave her permission to⁠—”

“No. Out here is fine.” She stumbled off toward Magdalena’s room while I stared at her, confused. “Draw me a bath,” she said. “The room ahead of you to the left.”

“Bossy,” I mumbled, but it was a relief she still had that fire in her. It would either make the process more difficult or easier, but I was just glad she was herself.

35

THE NEST

AURA

Driven by instinct, I pillaged Magdalena’s linen closet, grabbing all the pillows and blankets I could find. I brought them out into the living room, between the two-seater and the armchair, and started to stack them until the floor felt almost as cushioned as a bed. I fluffed pillows, piled on downy duvets and linen sheets, then stood back to admire my work.

My skin started to burn, sweat breaking out across my neck and back as pains punctuated each of my steps toward the bathroom. By the gods, everything in me cried out for an end to the infernal throbbing between my legs. The desperation was out of this world. Embarrassing. Unnatural.

I felt like an animal more than anything else.

My clothes were already off by the time I stepped into the bathroom. My chest heaved as though I’d run for miles, and the cool water in the bath did nothing to calm my body. I might as well have been in a boiling cauldron. Sylvan lounged against the counter nearby, watching me. The bulge in his trousers made it clear he was not a casual onlooker, though his body language said otherwise.

“Why are you standing all the way over there?” I asked.

“Giving you space.”

“I don’t want space.” My own words surprised me, but I reciprocated Sylvan’s aloofness, crossing my forearms atop the lip of the tub and resting my chin against them.

“That surprise in your voice is why I’m giving you space. I’m allowing you to feel everything and come to terms with it. Without me pressuring you.”

Dammit, why did that make me even wetter? This bath was utterly pointless. His nostrils flared, and he swore under his breath, closing his eyes. Giving me space wasn’t easy for him, that was clear. The muscles in my abdomen tensed painfully. I grimaced, and my hand slipped between my thighs.

“Aura—”

“If you’re going to stand all the way over there, I’ll take care of myself.”

He gave me a have at it gesture, and I squinted at him. His gaze followed the movement of my hand, though he couldn’t see anything beneath the water. Then he was marching toward me. “Stop, right there,” I said.

He came to a halt.

“You only get to watch.”

His brow lifted, but his smirk wasn’t well-hidden.

Unfortunately, his heated gaze had the opposite effect on me, and my hand wasn’t doing the job. The ache built with no resolution, my wrist cramped, and I stopped, the water sloshing out over the side of the bathtub. Sylvan’s hand rested on my shoulder, his stupidly understanding face filling my view.

“How’s that working out for you?”

I felt even filthier than I had before getting into the bath. My skin was sweaty, the slick between my legs more abundant despite the water.

“I hate having to rely on someone for my own pleasure. To not be in control of it.”