Page 69 of Blood Beneath the Snow

But beneath the layer of tension was a measure of unfamiliar comfort. I’d never been…held this way. Arne knew I didn’t like to be touched and respected my wishes. But my hesitancy evaporated at the feeling of the Hellbringer clutching me to him.

I waited for his breathing to slow, but it remained quick. Quick from the cold or…

No,I scolded myself.Don’t start.

I glanced at his hand. His glove was still torn from where he had caught my blade the very first night we’d spent together. The slices in the fabric were jagged. He must have seen a healer after I mentioned the markings on his palm, because there was no longer any trace of a scar. But his blood stained the edges of the fabric. I wondered why he didn’t replace it.

I didn’t realize I’d reached out to touch him until I felt the stiffness of the bloodstains on the fabric. My eyes widened and I pulled back immediately. I waited to feel another breath from him, but he was utterly still.

“Sorry,” I whispered. I clutched my hand to myself.

He exhaled. “Go to sleep.” I’d expected his voice to be harsh through the distortion, but it wasn’t. It sounded raw, like his throat had gone dry.

Thinking about it was too much to bear. I needed to sleep. Needed to push away my feelings for the Hellbringer.

A wave of dread rolled over me.Feelings for the Hellbringer.Did I have feelings for him? Or was it intrigue at the mystery of it all?

No matter—soon enough we would be on opposite sides of the war again. Thinking of him this way was pointless. Besides, he’d never feel the same. He was a cold-blooded killer. Mass murder didn’t leave a person untouched.

This was the wrong topic of thought for someone trying to drift off to sleep.

“You’re anxious,” he murmured. I tensed. “I can feel your heartbeat.” He tapped with two fingers where his hand brushed against the bottom of my rib cage. “Right there.”

I pushed away from him to stand up. “Don’t touch me,” I snarled, embarrassed at the heat coiling in my stomach from the contact. My feet were freezing to the floor, but I stood my ground, arms crossed over my chest, glaring at him.

He propped himself up on one elbow. “You’d rather freeze to death?”

I clenched my jaw. “Than be touched by a monster? Yes.”

The heartbeat of silence was long enough for him to rise and stand in front of me, and I tilted my head back to look into the eyes of his mask. The reminder of our height difference made warmth pool in my belly. “Are you aware thetruebest way to share body heat is naked?” He took a step closer to me. If I moved my hand, it would’ve touched him.

I tried to stubbornly wish the red out of my cheeks. My imagination was taking on a life of its own, replaying the vivid dream I’d had only a few nights ago: his fingers pushing into me, his dark voice murmuring in my ear, telling me exactly what he wanted. Praising me, calling me good. How did I tell my sworn enemy I really wouldn’t mind doing this naked?

The next shiver coursing through me had nothing to do with the temperature.

“Get. Back. In. Bed.” The command was no more than a hardened whisper.

“No,” I said through chattering teeth.

He stared at me through his helmet. “What are you afraid of? Do you feel something when I touch you?”

My eyes widened.

I watched, frozen, as he lifted a gloved hand to my face and brushed it against my cheek. “Does it scare you?”

Silence.

He shrugged. “If you’d like to freeze to death, be my guest. If not, you know where to find me.” He turned and lay back on the bed, pulling the blanket around himself, facing away from me.

I knew the bitterness I felt was not as sharp as the cold enveloping me. My arms were numb. Another minute or two and I wouldn’t be able to feel my legs either. If I didn’t get in the bed and get close to him, I would die tonight. The crackling flames in the fireplace wouldn’t be enough to prevent that.

But would climbing back into the bed be admitting defeat?

I let out a shuddering breath, watching it crystallize in front of me, and moved back to the bed. The Hellbringer lifted the side of his cloak so I could clamber under it.

Now I curled against him. Shame coiled in my stomach. Shame that he’d clearly won the advantage over me. Shame that the tentative peace I’d made with him would be ruined in the morning. And shame that I wanted to hold him close and embrace the murderer who chipped away at every barrier I put up.

Slumber took its time coming to claim me.

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