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The side of her head was throbbing. ‘Feels like it too.’
She wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but had his arms tightened around her? She swallowed the lump in her throat, trying to distract herself from the press of his chest against her, the brush of his muscular inner thighs cradling her sides.
Their earlier argument came back to her, a flush creeping across her cheeks. They’d yelled at each other, she’d tried to hit him… and now this?
‘I can ride my own horse.’ She reached for the reins.
‘Recent events say otherwise,’ Hawthorne replied, and his deep voice shivered along her bones.
‘I’m fine.’
‘There’s a good spot to camp a little further ahead. You ride with me until then.’
‘But —’
‘You’re in no state to ride if you pass out in the saddle.’
Thea clenched her jaw. Gods, she hated it when he was right. ‘I suppose you think this proves your point, that I shouldn’t or couldn’t be a warrior.’
‘I never said that, not once.’
‘You said —’
‘Several things,’ he cut her off. ‘All still true, but not that. If anything, your fierce stupidity and need to prove yourself —’
Thea drew herself up, ready to explode.
‘Means you’d fit right in with those idiots.’
‘Oh.’
Somewhere in the near distance, something rustled in the undergrowth. It was hard to determine the detail of the surrounding landscape, but before she had fallen, they’d been in the middle of nowhere, nothing but plains of grass stretching on before them.
‘You heard it too…’ Hawthorne said quietly.
‘What is it?’
‘I don’t know yet. But when we set up camp, I’m going to find out.’
By the time Hawthorne brought his stallion to a halt, Thea’s head was spinning. It was bad enough that when the Warsword dismounted and reached for her, she didn’t object to those large hands encircling her waist and helping her down. Wordlessly, he set her on one of the saddle blankets and handed her more water.
There was no arguing with the Warsword and Thea didn’t try to. She couldn’t tell if he was more angry at her, or himself. He didn’t speak as he went about tending to the horses and building a small fire. He passed her some dried meat to chew on, and she found she felt better as she ate.
Thea suspected the warrior was creating tasks for himself about the camp to avoid her. Perhaps she’d pushed him over the edge.
‘There is nothing I want more than to berid of you,’ he had shouted earlier.
Well, he nearly got his wish, she mused, still chewing on her piece of meat.
Thea must have dozed off not long after, because she woke up to someone shaking her gently by the shoulders.
She started, pain blooming in her head once again. ‘What?’ Blinking rapidly, she followed the Warsword’s gaze into the near distance.
A pair of vibrant yellow eyes stared at them through the grass. A monster?
Hawthorne placed himself between her and the beast, drawing her dagger from his belt. ‘You’ve noticed we’ve got company,’ he murmured, moving like a graceful shadow.
‘I have,’ Thea managed, squinting into the night.
