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My shackles were gone, but I could still feel phantom pain. Perhaps the forget-me-nots’ effects lingered even after they’d been removed from someone’s skin. I didn’t want to test this theory, as, enclosed in this room as I was, the only person who would hurt from my ice and snow would be me.
I sat up, blinking as the world lurched, and scanned my surroundings more intently. Was the door locked? If they’d left me unrestrained, it seemed too much to hope that the Silverfrosts hadn’t left me guarded.
Footsteps echoed outside as if in answer to my questions. A bolt slid free, and the door swung inward. I gaped at the figure in the doorway, his white-blond hair contrasting sharply with the brightness of his gold eyes. His jaw was taut, all warmth leached from his features. Perhaps the charming, loyal, gentle man I’d known, the one who’d confessed to loneliness, the one who’d made self-deprecating jests about his weaknesses, didn’t exist. Maybe this cold hunter was the true man.
Renewed pain flared in my chest. “You.”
Ignoring me, Garrick kicked the door shut behind him and strode silently across the floor, settling himself on the edge of the bed. It wasn’t until he sat that I noticed the bag he carried. Resting it on the bed between us, he withdrew a jar of ointment.
I gritted my teeth, my eyes darting over his shoulder toward the door.Foolish,I thought. There were likely guards waiting for me out there, not to mention miles of frigid mountains and no guarantee I could find the Ashwood kingdom by myself, let alone that its people would welcome me.
Not to mention Garrick’s icy presence.
King Preston’s words echoed in my head.Resisting and running will only give us reason to let our dog chase you again. And he does so love to hunt.
I’d always survived by being unobtrusive, but if I refused this fight, I’d be resigning myself to a lifetime of slavery and cruelty. Or torture. The image of Queen Nerissa and that bloody finger haunted me.
Without letting myself overthink it, I launched from the bed. The world spun and my steps fumbled as I slid on stockinged feet across a cool stone floor, charging for the door I prayed was still unlocked. I didn’t feel any cold chills or other indications of my magic brewing, and I was unarmed and in an unfamiliar place. But I couldn’t just lie down and give in to this nightmarish existence. Not without trying to find something better...
Warm hands seized my wrists just as I reached the door. My breath caught in my throat as Garrick whirled me around to face him, pressing my back against the wood. His face was inches from mine, his gold eyes bright with emotion for the first time. I thought it might be fury.
“Not a good idea,” he growled, locking my arms on either side of me, his fingers firm on my wrists. He had me hemmed in, his chest rising and falling unevenly, so close it pressed into mine. I knew chasing me hadn’t winded him at all.
He was breathless with his anger.
I wished for magic that didn’t come, longed for the cool touch of my ice to temper the heat from Garrick’s body encasing me. Wished I could entrap him the way I’d stopped the winged fae the night before.
But I couldn’t fight back, couldn’t resist. Instead, dizziness struck again, and my vision blurred. I swayed unsteadily on my feet, trying and failing to speak. All that came out was a groan of protest as Garrick lifted me effortlessly in his arms and carried me back toward the bed. My heart plunged into my stomach as the familiar scents of mountain air, leather, and fur filled my nose, reminding me of when Garrick had carried me to help me. Not to trap me, as he was now.
And yet his touch was as gentle as ever, a sharp contrast to the unfeeling look on his face.
“You’re injured and weak from the shackles,” Garrick said, his tone still guttural. It reminded me that he was a wolf shifter. Animalistic. A heartless hunter loyal to his wicked king and queen. “Running would encourage them to play with you more, to hurt you. And if you did somehow escape the castle? It would be suicide.”
He lowered me onto the bed, hovering over me as he searched my face.
“Says the man who turned me into those...revolting creatures,” I managed, still breathless from my exertion when my muscles remained weak and achy. “It seems...you want me to die. I thought you were better than the fae who use and abuse humans...but you’re just an animal with...a predator’s instincts. All along, you were tricking me so you could be the bounty hunter that brought me to them.” My voice cracked.
A muscle jumped in Garrick’s jaw. Something flashed in those gold eyes—and then vanished, replaced with a blank look concealing all emotion. “You don’t know what I am.” Without pulling back, he brushed strands of silver hair out of my face and off my neck, revealing the place the winged fae had bitten me. It still stung, though the blood had long crusted over my wound. “Hold still so I can tend to you.”
“I don’t want you touching me.”
Garrick leaned forward even closer, his nose brushing mine. My heart jumped into my throat, my throbbing pulse so violent I was sure he could hear it. I glared at him, but he didn’t let my expression affect the stony look on his face. “Would you prefer I fetch the king and ask him to treat your wounds?”
I shuddered, and Garrick pulled back to retrieve the ointment. “As I thought,” he muttered.
“Isn’t there a servant to do this?” I demanded as I sat up, turning my head away so as to avoid his eyes as he brushed the ointment over my neck with a calloused finger. Every brush of his skin against mine stirred a jolt of energy and heat. Though I wanted to forget my foolish earlier feelings for this man and lose myself in the bitter sense of betrayal, I couldn’t ignore my attraction quite so easily, not when his touches were tender and attentive. They reminded me of the good-hearted, conscientious man I’d thought he was. The one I’d trusted and felt safe with, the one I ached to have by my side now.
“The king and queen sent me,” Garrick said simply.
He settled closer to inspect the back of my head, brushing aside strands of hair to find the lump Preston had left when knocking me unconscious. I hissed when his fingers touched it, then immediately clamped my lips closed, not wanting him to know how much I hurt. Any sign of weakness, any symptom of the broken pieces I’d shattered into, would be something a fae would happily exploit.
If only I’d been this cautious of my heart before, when I’d been alone and eager to listen to Garrick’s own story of solitude and loneliness.
“You would probably do better cleaning this on your own,” Garrick said stiffly. “I can draw a bath for you, let you wash your hair. I’ll apply the ointment afterward and add more to your neck. What I already used should dull the pain somewhat.”
I shot him a look before my eyes flicked to the open washroom. “I’m not bathing with you here.”
Garrick sat back, lifting his hands in surrender. “I won’t look.”
