Page 68 of Blood Beneath the Snow

The next two days passedwithout event. Truthfully, I was more relaxed than ever. My dream about the Hellbringer seemed to lose its edge in the wake of my pride at being able to keep up with him when we fought now. I’d nearly forgotten it by the time the next storm arrived.

Nearly.

Running circles around the main room of the prison was my least favorite aspect of training, a fact the Hellbringer recognized and seemed determined to use against me. Even now, despite sweating profusely, I noticed the temperature dropping steadily. Goose bumps snaked across my arms when I shivered.

The Hellbringer, who was whittling away at a block of wood,didn’t look up from his task. “The weather will be dangerous tonight,” he said. “There’s a bad storm blowing in. We must do everything we can to keep ourselves warm.”

I ran my tongue over my lips where they stuck together with dryness and wiped sweat from my forehead. “What are you proposing?” I asked, slowing to a stop. “A trip somewhere warmer?”

“No,” he said, and I felt a twinge of disappointment. Although the smoke filtered out through the tunnels above the fireplace, I still smelled like the unceasing fire. My desire for fresh air was as poignant as hunger pains. I hadn’t expected how cooped up I would feel without access to the outdoors.

“We will share the bed tonight.”

My face burned bright red at his words, my once-clear thoughts immediately filled with memories of what I’d dreamt in that same bed mere nights before. There was no way I would be sleeping next to the man whose imagined voice had nearly made me come. “Excuse me?” I sputtered. “Absolutely not.”

He didn’t look up at me. The mask obscured any emotion on his face, and I glowered, knowing my expressions betrayed my feelings. “Do you not want to live through the night?”

I bristled. “I’m not the one who was stupid enough to pick an abandoned prison in the middle of the northern wastelands as my hideout. Can’t your soldier teleport us? Why don’t we spend the night in Bhorglid?” It was a stupid question—he would be found and captured in an instant. But, for the briefest second, I found myself missing my own bed and the way the snow fell in flurries at home instead of blizzards.

There was no acknowledgment of my question. The fire flashed sparks as he threw another log into it. “What, exactly, do you find so reprehensible about sleeping next to me?” I heard a note of wry sarcasm in his voice despite the distortion.

I rubbed a hand across my forehead. He didn’t know,couldn’tknow. The whole thing had happened in my head. But the thought of the Hellbringer crooning, “Tell me you like it, Princess,” had me flushing from head to toe. And that wasn’t even the dirtiest thing my subconscious had made him say. “Perhaps the number of people you’ve slaughtered in cold blood. Will I get any sleep or spend the whole night wondering if you’ll stick a knife in my back?”

“Oh, Princess. I have much more efficient ways of killing you than with a knife.” He finished tending to the fire and stood, turning to face me. Within moments he was mere inches away. I had to tilt my head back to keep eye contact with the carved helmet. I staunchly ignored the thrill that ran down my spine. When had his very presence become so magnetic?

“If only you knew,” he murmured, “the pleasure of feeling your magic set free to take what it pleases.” He reached out and fingered a strand of hair that fell against my shoulder. Every muscle in my body tensed.

His next words were soft. “Do you know what it is like to be not a man but a weapon?”

He stepped back, releasing my hair, and gazed at the fire. I hated the red flushing my cheeks. Hated the way heat flared in my belly, between my thighs. Of all the people I could have been craving, why did it have to be the worst one?

It’s physical,I reminded myself.Nothing more.

But something about it made me wonder. Arne and I had been physically intimate, but it had felt different; straightforward and purposeful, a means to an end. The way I was curious about the Hellbringer was a new sort of wanting.

I refused to acknowledge it. “Fine,” I said. “But I won’t sleep next to someone who is dressed in a full suit of armor.”

He looked at himself as if realizing he was armored for the first time that evening. But he glanced at me and nodded. His handsreached up to his throat, where a chain clasped his cloak around him, and unfastened it, tossing it onto the bed.

Slowly, one piece at a time, he unstrapped his dark metal armor, revealing his casual black shirt and pants underneath. I couldn’t see any of his skin, and yet I blushed like I was watching someone undress entirely.

It was too intimate. His casual clothes hugged his body, showing off lean muscle. I knew he was strong—had even seen his bare torso before—but it was another feeling entirely toseethe strength of him on display, his shirt clinging to his biceps and his pants tight around his thighs. Every movement declared his intentions: he wanted me to watch him, to drink him in with my eyes.

I turned to hide my face from him. “Well,” I said, unceremoniously. “I guess I’m…going to bed. If you want to join me.”

He laughed then, and despite the voice modulator, the sound was lovely. “No one has ever invited me to bed with so little enthusiasm,” he said, and I heard his footsteps following behind me.

I looked over my shoulder. “Don’t flatter yourself.” It was easy to imagine the kinds of people who must throw themselves at him in Kryllian: wealthy, charming individuals with little ambition for anything other than a life of ease. Was he allowed to maintain relationships as the Hellbringer? I opened my mouth to ask, then thought better of it and shut it promptly.

I took the left side of the bed, drawing the blanket over myself and turning to face outward. I felt the other side of the mattress sink when he sat. Both of his boots clunked against the floor as he pulled them off.

He could be ugly,I reminded myself, trying not to tense as he brushed against me. Could he hear the way my heart thundered violently?

He didn’t ask, merely turned on his side to face me and wrapped an arm around me, pulling me close. He draped his cloak over both of us.

I tried to hate it. But, by the gods, he waswarm.

Over the next several minutes my shivering slowed to a stop and my jaw relaxed. The anxiousness I’d felt about being so close to him had subsided. His arm draped casually over my stomach, the maw of the mask tilted up so his head rested above mine. The palm pressed over my belly was too much like the hand from my dream, the one that had reached down between my legs.

---