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“Until you fall asleep,” he said, climbing in beside her. He spread a thin blanket over them and tucked her tight against him.
“This is the first time we’ve actually slept together,” she said, yawning again.
“Sleep,” he ordered.
If only it were that simple.
Her mind raced. Draven was Ethan Radcliffe, the butcher. He had done horrible things but had saved lives. And he said he loved her.
He kept his brother locked in a dungeon in an ill-guided attempt to cure him and he loved her.
Everything she learned about his past paled in comparison to the terror she felt when she saw him injured. She thought she lost him.
Because she loved him.
Charlotte lay awake with this realization. The sounds of the Aerie preparing for a siege surrounded them, but they had a small oasis of privacy. She should confess her feelings now, while they had a moment together, but the words didn’t come. She lay there on the cot, listening to the slow beat of his heart, drawing comfort from it, and she couldn’t confess what was in her heart.
Movement woke her. Excitement buzzed throughout the camp. Something happened while she slept. Dawn was still a few hours away. She had only slept for an hour or two.
Charlotte found Draven and Luis deep in conversation. She didn’t need to hear the words to understand what they discussed.
“No,” she said, running to join them. “Whatever you’re planning, absolutely not.”
Luis had that stubborn look on his face and Draven was all grim seriousness. Whatever this little conspiracy was, she did not approve.
Draven passed the sword to Luis. “Blackthorn is yours now. Keep Charlotte safe.”
“You’re sending me away,” she said, the pain of a breaking heart piercing every word. “You swore you wouldn’t.”
“I must,” Draven said.
“You can’t,” she said, already knowing the decision had been made. “Come with me. Let’s leave together.”
It was a wild proposition. Run away together? And do what? Where could they possibly go to avoid suspicion?
“I must. This is my home. These people need me.”
Charlotte clutched at Draven’s coat. Sometime while she was asleep, he found the time to bathe and dress in a fresh uniform. She must have looked frantic, dressed in yesterday’s gown liberally decorated with smoke and blood and her hair a mess. “You don’t have to stay here. Let the army have it. This mountain is toxic. It’ll consume you. Don’t let it. It’s already taken so much.”
“Charlotte—”
“You can change your name again. We’ll start anew together. Please,” she begged. “I don’t want to lose you.” She loved him. She couldn’t lose him. If she said the words, confessed what was in her heart, he’d have to run away with her.
The words wouldn’t come. It would be unfair to put him in such a position. This was his home. People needed him. He’d never abandon them.
Draven gathered her in his arms. The mask of the cold, controlled monster of the mountain was gone, and it was just them. Draven and Charlotte. A monster and his love. The world would never let them be something as simple as a woman and a man, but for the moment, they were together. It was enough.
“I know things remain unresolved between us. This is not a punishment,” he said.
Reality came back. He would remain on his mountain, even if it meant his death. She would be alone once more.
“It feels like a punishment,” she said. Her eyes watered, spilling. She still couldn’t say the words. Her emotions were worn, and she couldn’t fight the tears rolling down her face.
“You’re too precious to risk. I’ve lost one anchor. I won’t lose another.” He brushed a tear from her cheek.
“Not possible. I’m not—”
He silenced her with a kiss. This was the last time they would touch. She was desperate to memorize his touch, the feel of his lips against hers, the way his arm tightened around her waist. Too soon, they pulled apart.
