Page 65 of Frost Bound

Chapter Twenty-Four

Dahlia

She wokewith her lungs on fire and her throat feeling like it had been torn to shreds.

Her head ached, and she squeezed her eyes shut harder.

It felt as if she’d gone on a bender for days and then had been beaten with a club.

A groan escaped her. She shifted, pressing farther into the warmth that blanketed her entire back. She blinked one eye open, and a blurry hearth swam into view, the flames dancing merrily.

A fire.

Lia lifted her right hand and winced, setting it back down on the thickly knitted blankets. Her shoulder didn’t like that and her palm was bandaged.

Where was she? How did she get here?

The stags, the trip, and the river…

She sucked in a sharp breath. The last things she remembered was Arun, and wanting to sleep.

Something tightened around her waist and Dahlia stiffened. She slowly glanced down to find a blue, muscled arm draped over the curve of her hip, a clawed hand pressed possessively to her belly. Her pulse leapt and she forced herself to peek over her shoulder.

A scream burst from her lips.

Eyes as dark as hell popped open and locked on her a moment before the giant sprang up, caging her in with his body. A blade appeared in his hand while he scanned the room.

Arun.

Dahlia stared at his jawline and tried to wiggle away. His attention turned to her and the snarl on his lips disappeared. He sighed, and sheathed his blade before rolling away from her. Lia sat up quickly, the world spinning for a moment, before she yanked the blankets up to her chin, as if they could shield her from him.

“What are you doing?” she rasped, her voice almost gone. Screaming hadn’t been her best idea.

He climbed to his feet, all feline grace, and moved to the window, sunlight pouring in. She gaped at the mottled bruises that covered his entire back. How had that happened?

“I asked you a question,” she stated, trying to put some command into it, but falling short.

The frost giant faced her and leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms over his muscled chest that led to a tapered waist. Heat filled her cheeks, and she jerked her gaze back to his face.

“How are you feeling?”

The question surprised her.

“Like I’ve been put through the wash, dragged across coals, and beaten by a club,” she rasped, coughing. Her chestached. It was as if she were trying to breathe through a wet rag.

Arun walked to a stool and plucked up a cup that had been set on it. He prowled around the mattress and squatted down, holding the cup out as if he would help her drink. She jerked her head back and held out her hand.

They stared at each other for a long moment before he silently handed over the rounded wooden cup. Her hand shook as she brought it to her mouth, sloshing some of the liquid onto her chest.

“Stubbornvalles,” he whispered under his breath before his warm hand settled over hers. He cupped the back of her head with his other hand to steady her. Warm savory liquid flowed over her tongue and down her throat. It felt like heaven. She took another gulp, and mewled when he pulled the cup away.

“Just a little at a time. You haven’t been able to eat. We need to get something into that stomach of yours first or you’ll vomit.”

She watched him as he stood and walked back to the stool. Why was he here instead of Flyka?

He placed the cup on the floor next to the stool, his bruises once more on display.

A vague memory from the river surfaced. A rock.

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