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It was the first time he’d called me Nelayra. The word did what he was likely hoping for. I rolled over, curled myself into a ball, and closed my eyes.
But I could feel his gaze on the back of my neck. My skin prickled. If there was one thing Lorian had, it was patience. He was used to biding his time—after all, he’d done exactly that while he’d waited for the perfect opportunity to get close to Regner.
And my instincts were screaming at me that he was simply biding his time once more.
* * *
I’d dreamed again last night.
I didn’t often dream anymore. It was Prisca who woke with choked screams dying in her throat. And each time it happened, I wanted to wrap her in my arms and force her to accept what little comfort I could offer.
Today, she was the one casting me the occasional searching look.
I ignored those looks in favor of gazing at her instead. Each time she tucked a blond curl behind her ear, she revealed a sliver of skin at her neck. I knew just how soft that skin was. Knew how she tasted.
“If you don’t stop staring at me, I’m going to push you off your horse.”
Her snarl was enough to pull me from my darker thoughts. “Good luck with that, wildcat.”
Since it was annoying her, and I’d gladly take that annoyance over her insistence on pretending I was a stranger, I continued to stare. Now that I had her alone, I would no longer allow her to continue to build walls between us.
Giving her space hadn’t worked. So perhaps it was time to do the opposite.
She licked her lips, her amber eyes narrowing as she deigned to glare at me. Her mouth had always fascinated me, even when we’d first met—when I was determined to ignore her existence.
Her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparked, and I ruthlessly suppressed the urge to crush my mouth to hers.
I wanted to haul her off that horse and roll her beneath me.
I’d thought I could tolerate her cold silence. Thought I could swallow down the hurt in her eyes each time I spoke. Thought I could deal with the way she’d refused to even ask me to explain.
I’d given her time. But I could see now just how I’d erred. My wildcat had clearly decided that the time I’d allowed was a signal I was giving up.
She was going to learn differently.
“We need to water the horses,” I said, and she nodded, reining in her horse and following me off the trail.
Prisca dismounted, wincing a little.
“Do you need some healer’s balm?”
She slid me a cool look. The same kind of look a woman might send someone she didn’t know. Someone she had no intention of knowing further. “No thank you.”
That was enough. She’d turned to walk away, but I caught her wrist, pushing her up against the closest tree.
“Let go,” she ordered, baring her teeth as she leaned close, her voice shaking with suppressed wrath.
Fury carved a hole through me, until I lowered my own head, leaning close to her ear.
“Hate me, rage against me, refuse to admit what you feel. But don’t youdaretreat me like a stranger.”
Those were tears sparkling on her lower lashes. Tears she refused to shed.
“Youarea stranger.”
I raised my head just enough to catch the way she stuck out her chin.
“Keep pushing, wildcat, and see what happens.”
