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“Because it would kill me. ”
The frankness of his words cut me right to the core. I got up and pushed the door back open, standing in front of him and looking up at his eyes. There was a thin film of emotion shining there, threatening to cheat him of his masculine posturing.
“So you’re moving in?”
“Yes. ”
“And Lucas ordered you to do this?”
“He didn’t have to break fingers or anything, but it’s by his decree. Officially I’m your bodyguard. The Queen’s Guard, if we’re being titular about it. ”
“Queen’s Guard,” I repeated, taking one of his hands in mine so our fingers twined together. “That sounds serious. ”
“Very serious. ” He pushed my hair off my shoulder and stepped across the threshold of the room so only a sliver of summer-hot air separated us. He trailed his fingers down my arm so slowly I thought they might be beaded sweat. I shivered.
“You’ll have to stay close to me. ”
“Yes. ” He dipped his head and kissed the space where my neck met my collarbone. Once, a vampire had bitten through that same bone, and though it had long since healed I still felt a cold chill whenever anyone touched me there. A visceral reminder of how close I could come to death.
No one was untouchable.
I took his hand and placed it on the small of my back as we moved together towards my bed. The hard, muscular curve of his pelvis pressed against my stomach.
“Desmond?”
He was kissing his way down my chest, his lips dangerously close to my left nipple and the point of no return. I grabbed a fistful of his hair and forced him to stop.
“Did Lucas ask you to move in before or after our dinner?” I didn’t know why, but a lot rested on his answer. Perhaps all my hopes for saving my relationship with the wolf king. It seemed like a funny thing to worry about at the moment, but then again, when was a good time to worry about it? If Lucas had asked before, it meant nothing I said at dinner factored in at all and he’d never intended to trust me. If he’d made his request after our fight, I could understand why he’d worry about me bolting.
“After,” Desmond mumbled, taking no time to think up a lie.
It was the answer I’d needed to hear. I released his head, and immediately his mouth latched in to place and my eyes fluttered shut. There would be no more questions tonight.
Chapter Twenty-Three
It was snowing.
I walked down the sloped paths of the Ramble barefoot and in step with Sig, and felt each cool flake melt beneath my warm soles. I was wearing a thin cotton slip for pajamas, but in spite of the chill in the air I wasn’t bothered by the cold.
We came to a footbridge overlooking the lake. The reflection of sleeping giants glittered over the still surface, not yet frozen over, and huge feathery flakes of snow dropped like precious gems in the light.
I was dreaming.
“I was in bed,” I said to Sig.
“You still are. ”
“It’s cold. ”
“It’s winter. ”
I took the words at face value. It was winter here, of that there was no doubt. I asked something more pressing instead. “Why don’t you ever wear shoes?” I sounded petulant.
Sig smirked and looked down at our equally naked feet.
“I’ve learned to watch my step. ”
The night was still, as though my imagination could remember only fragments of what winter was and couldn’t quite conjure up the rest. Sig handed me a wrapped, rectangular package tied with a silver ribbon. He hadn’t been carrying it before.
