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‘What are you doing?’ he growled, still holding a fistful of towel in front of him.
With her breath trapped in her chest, her eyes dropped to the V-taper of golden skin at the bottom of Hawthorne’s stomach, where dark hair trailed down, pointing like an arrow to his —
‘I…’
‘Use your words, Princess.’
Thea waited for the fury and lightning to surge, but it wasn’t magic coursing through her now.
It was molten desire.
‘We need a lock for the door,’ she managed, forcing her gaze up.
He pushed past her, that intoxicating scent of rosewood and leather following. ‘No, we don’t,’ he muttered. ‘Next time, knock.’
Thea wracked her brain for a clever retort, but every thought emptied from her head as Hawthorne brushed past her, his hot skin grazing hers briefly.
Her eyes traced the tattoo down his spine. Dark and beautiful, in a language she didn’t understand, just like him.
He’d told her what it meant once:Glory in death, immortality in legend.The same words engraved on the blade of her dagger.
‘We rise at dawn and head to the stables at first light.’ His voice was thick as he moved through the room, his powerful frame rippling with every step.
He hadn’t bothered to cover the curve of his muscular backside.
Her mouth went dry as she stared. Stared and stared as the candlelight from the bathing chamber illuminated the bedroom.
Enough so that when he dropped his towel completely and slid beneath the sheets, she knew for certain that he did, in fact, sleep nude.
CHAPTER SIX
WILDER
When Wilder woke the next morning, groggy and dazed, she was gone. Her cot was neatly made up, and a faint hint of her sea-salt-and-bergamot scent lingered, but there was no other sign of her. How had she slipped past him without waking him? He was usually such a light sleeper that even the most minor of disturbances had him on his feet, weapon in hand.
Pulling his pants on, he padded out to the living room, where, pinned beneath the sapphire necklace he’d meant to return to his drawer last night, he found a piece of parchment:
Meet you at the stables.
She hadn’t signed it, but rather scribbled a bolt of lightning beneath the words.
He almost wanted to laugh at that.
Almost.
Instead, he toyed with the jewel, resenting that he’d felt the need to rummage through his old things for it. The fitful sleep he’d had only made matters worse, made it harder to keep that mental armour in place against the world. No good would come from wallowing in the past; he knew that well enough by now. But something stopped him from throwing the necklace into the cluttered drawer. Instead he tossed it back onto the table with a muttered curse.
The first kiss of dawn stained the sky as Wilder reached the fortress stables. He wondered if Thea felt as hollow as he did. He’d wanted to wake up with her in his arms. He had imagined holding her to his chest as he rocked into her, slowly and deeply, as though they had all the time in the world.
A dream. Nothing more.
He had let his emotions rule him before and no good had come from it. That would be the end of it.
He had to make a Warsword of her yet.
Already resigning himself to a trying morning, he took a deep breath of the crisp air before entering the stables.
Only to halt as he heard voices from the tack room.
