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My limbs feel leaden, and I’m not sure how exactly I ended up tucked under the covers of his bed. He stands, pushing himself off the edge of the mattress to pace around the bed with his arms folded over his chest.
Does he really not care if I leave?
“What were you doing in the lake at this hour?” he asks sharply, and something almost imperceptible shifts in his eyes. He said he doesn’t care, but I could almost swear there’s concern creeping into his voice.
“I wanted to go for a swim. I didn’t mean to worry you,” I say sheepishly, and it sounds like a pathetic excuse even to me.
He pauses his pacing to shake his head in disbelief.
“You wanted to swim?” he asks with a frustrated groan as if he were dealing with a reckless child. “Why didn’t you just say so? I could have gone with you to make sure you were safe. Or Lucy. Any one of us. What were you thinking? It’s the middle of the night, it’s cold and... forget it,” he huffs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just stay there. I’m going to get the healer.”
“No,” I say quickly. The last thing I want is to be examined right now. I’m suddenly extraordinarily aware that I’m almost completely naked under the blanket on his bed. How much of me did Tristan see? “I mean, that’s not necessary. I’m fine.”
He looks at me, brows furrowing over his elegant eyes.
“You passed out,” he says slowly, some of the annoyance melting from his expression. “You could’ve hurt yourself. You might have hit your head. If you have a concussion—”
“I’m fine, Tristan.”
He stops short, eyes widening slightly in surprise like he’s unaccustomed to hearing his own name on my lips. I shut my eyes tightly to block out the sight of him, taking a deep breath. I can’t think straight when he’s looking at me, and whatever happened at the lake still has me rattled.
After a moment, I open my eyes, and I find that he’s still standing by the side of the bed, his features softened.
“Alright.”
I wriggle under the covers, moving to sit up. I’m still holding the blanket against me to cover myself, and Tristan is instantly by my side, the mattress shifting under his weight.
“Easy,” he says, his tone firm but patient as his hand wraps around the back of my head, supporting me as I prop myself up against the head of the bed. His calloused fingers graze the skin between my neck and shoulder as he helps me, and I feel my pulse quicken at his touch. Almost unconsciously, his thumb brushes the nape of my neck in a comforting little caress, and the softness of his touch sends a chill down my spine. Tristan frowns, surveying me once again.
“You’re trembling. You chose a cold night for your swim. We’ll have to warm you up.”
Heat rises to my cheeks as he stands again. “What? No. I told you, I’m okay,” I mutter, too flustered to make sense. “I feel fine. You don’t have to—”
“Relax, little flower,” he says with a hint of amusement. “I’m not suggesting I get under the covers with you. I’m just going to draw a warm bath for you, so you don’t catch a cold.”
“Oh,” I reply, feeling incredibly foolish and self-conscious.
He heads into the adjoining bathroom, and I wait on the bed while he gets the water running, unsure of what else I should do.
The Exiled Alpha, King of Outcasts, is drawing me a bath.
This is, without a doubt, one of the strangest nights of my life.
Tristan walks back into the room, returning to the bedside.
“How do you feel?” he asks, and there’s a tenderness behind the question that makes my breath hitch.
“I’m okay. I’m sorry for causing so much trouble.”
He sighs, more with defeat than frustration this time. “Please stop apologizing.”
“Sorry,” I reply instinctively and immediately feel silly. The corner of his lip twitches in the faintest of smiles, and I chuckle a little awkwardly. “You’re... you’re really not angry with me?”
He pauses for a moment, considering his next words. “I’m a little annoyed,” he says at last. “I’m upset that you could’ve endangered yourself. I’m confused as to why you did it. But no, I’m not angry, flower. Not at you.”
Perhaps it’s not the most polite or perfect answer, but it’s sincere, and somehow, that’s so much better. It makes me want to be honest with him too.
“Lucy and Nico told me about your father and everything that happened with the Albion pack,” I say slowly, my words measured as I watch his reaction. His jaw clenches, and his muscles go taut, but he says nothing, so I go on. “I didn’t want to cause any more conflict at dinner, and I just got this feeling looking out at the lake... like I wanted to wash the past away. A fresh start. It sounds stupid when I. try to explain it...”
