Page 16 of A Darkness So Sweet

Was she going to drown in knee-high water?

He wasn’t all that certain what to do, considering he was the catalyst for all of this, so he remained where he was. Watching until her head finally crested the water, free of sand now that she’d been flailing about so badly. Spluttering, she shoved all that red hair away from her face and stared at him. Wide eyed. Far too concerned for his liking. Black streaks dripped down her cheeks, likely from the makeup they’d painted all over her. A smear of red streaked from her lips across her cheek as well.

“What are you doing?” she wheezed, her breath sounding a little ragged in her lungs. Likely from inhaling too much water.

“I brought you clothing,” he said, lifting the shirt in his hand. “Don’t you need to remove your dress to bathe?”

“No.”

“How do you get everything underneath clean?”

She stared at him a little longer before rasping, “You just reach up under there and clean it.”

Perhaps she believed that was sound logic, but he didn’t think so. The corset alone covered too much of her ribcage for her to appropriately clean her torso. Not to mention the heavy skirts would make it hard for her to see if there was anything left that she had missed while wiping at all the other bits. Their kinds weren’t so different that he couldn’t imagine everywhere she needed to take care of.

That dress would be the death of her, not the stream. She was so convinced it was cleanliness that would be her downfall, but that just wasn’t true. Keeping wet clothing on her body for long periods of time could actually make a person sick. She would need to dry off. And, like an idiot, he hadn’t brought her a blanket with which to do so.

His shirt would have to do. It was thick enough to soak up much of the water, and he likely had another one lingering somewhere. He wasn’t one to wear a lot of shirts, though.

His stomach churned and his chest grew tight with that anxiety again. He didn’t want to be known as the man who lost his wife to something as stupid as thecold.

“We’re not taking the dress back with us,” he declared.

“Excuse me?”

“Take it off. We’re not returning to camp with that.”

Her mouth parted, those berry red lips dropping open. “The dress stays on.”

“It comes off.”

“I don’t want to wear the shirt you have in your hands. It’s not a dress and hardly enough fabric to cover me.” She crossed her arms over her chest, as if those meager biceps were enough to shield herself from his sight. “It’s simply not done to walk around men I do not know with my legs showing.”

“You’re no longer with the humans.” He stood, letting her gaze trail over his much larger form. She needed to understand that when he told her to do something, it wasn’t because it was a choice. He wanted to keep her safe. “Take the dress off, or I will take it off for you.”

Her features paled at his order. But she nodded, even if the muscles in her jaw jumped a bit as she did so. “Fine. If that’s how it is.”

Ragnar held the shirt out for her. “Good. I’m glad you’ve finally seen reason.”

But she still stared at him, seated in the water, while her lips started to turn purple. “Are you going to turn around?”

“Why would I do that?”

“A gentleman would.”

Ragnar tried very hard not to let any emotion show on his face. “What makes you think I’m a gentleman?”

Gentlemen were the nobles who hunted trolls down in the middle of the night. Gentlemen were the humans who went out of their way to leave his people dying painful deaths and then hang pointed ears around their necks. He did not want to be like any of those people.

Still, considering how pale she was, he supposed he could relent. Shaking the shirt in his hand, he slowly turned and then held it out behind him. “Quickly, fire hair. My patience grows thin.”

They had very little time. The forest was dangerous at night, and there were many creatures who hunted in the silver light of the moon. He needed to get her back to the tent site, back where there were fires to keep away the creatures who would attack even a troll.

He listened to the sounds of rustling fabric and her soft breaths before he felt the slightest tap on his forearm. Glancing down at her, he ground his teeth at the delicate sight. All that red hair had turned dark as blood, plastered back from her face and revealing those strangely rounded ears. But even more than that, she just looked... small. Fairly swimming in the shirt he had given her. The hem reached her knees, and the arms pooled around her fingertips.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice perhaps a little softer.

At her nod, he grabbed the back of her neck and guided her through the woods to his tent.

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