Page 6 of Restored

“What time is it?” he grumbles.

“A quarter to eight.”

“Oh, fuck.” He jumps out of the bed and begins searching around the room.

“Where did all your clothes go?” He stands before me in a pair of drawers. I’m momentarily stunned, his long sinewy body catching my attention.

I’ve seen him shirtless many times, but for some reason, I suddenly understand why so many ladies willingly welcome him into their beds. My eyes linger on the planes of his body for longer than appropriate.

He finds his pants, pulling them on quickly, catching my stare. “What? You know I get hot when I sleep.”

I nod stupidly, looking away hoping he doesn’t notice the red staining my cheeks. I see his shirt lying on the floor and toss it to him.

“Thanks.”

“Where are you in such a hurry to?” I run a brush through my long, tangled blonde hair. When I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I cringe. Heavy bags line my bloodshot, light blue eyes. Eyes I’ve always thought were too big for my face. My cheekbones have a gaunt appearance, a stark reminder of how poorly I’d been taking care of myself lately. My tongue darts out to wet my dry, heart-shaped lips. They are wine-stained, and I rub the back of my hand over them to try and rid them of evidence.

“I am to welcome some visitors from Westray to the castle.” He grabs the brush from my hands and runs it through his tousled locks. I lick my fingers and flatten them over a few stray pieces of hair sticking up; he grins down at me.

“Westray? That’s quite a distance to travel. What business do they have here?” We both pull on our boots.

“I believe they are just passing through. Calum, the King of Westray used to be close with my father.” He finishes tying his laces and stands. His brows pinch together and he rubs at his temples. “Gods, I feel awful; I blame you.”

“How is it my fault?! You brought the wine!”

“If you weren’t so hell-bent on proving ‘just how fun you could be’ maybe we wouldn’t have gone through threebottles!” He gives me a once over, pulling down the side of my dress and attempting to smooth some wrinkles.

I swat him away. “I don’t have time to argue with you; Hecktor will have my head. And for the record, I was the embodiment of fun last night.” I open my door, stepping out to meet Hecktor. The three of us walk down the hallways and I rub my arms to wear off the cold that seeps through all the old stones lining the walls. They vary in shapes and sizes, each one a drab grey.

“Oh yeah, was that before or after you passed out drooling and snoring?” His lips tip up in that crooked smile eliciting a grin from me.

I bump him with my shoulder. “I don’t snore, and you know it.” Our footsteps echo in the empty corridor.

“Dinner tonight after you’re done in the infirmary?” Maddox asks as he buttons his shirt. We pass a window, and I get a glimpse of the dead tree that Maddox and I used to climb when we were little.

“I have to visit my mother tonight, but maybe after.” I grimace at the sudden onslaught of emotion that assaults me at the mention of her.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Maddox notices my sudden change and his hand comes up to brush the small of my back.

“I think it’s better if you don’t; she’s been getting worse. She barely recognizes me these days.” I frown remembering our last interaction.

“You think she would recognize me? It would be very difficult to forget a face as perfect as mine.” My lip lifts in a halfhearted smile at his attempt to pull me out of my thoughts. “Really though, Lay, if you need me, I’m there.”

“I know, thanks. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“See ya, good luck today!” He gives my side a squeeze before going in the opposite direction.

“Are you quite ready?” Hecktor looks impatient as he turns to me, approaching the entrance.

“As I’ll ever be.” I try to ignore the way my head pounds and my stomach churns unpleasantly.

“Can’t you use some of those healing abilities on yourself?” he grumbles, taking in my appearance.

“You know it doesn’t work that way, and anyway, I feel great.” I feign a big smile hoping to appease him, and he looks away shaking his head.

We arrive at the healing wing of the castle, and he turns to me, handing me a small sticky bun before leaving me with a nod. He may appear grumpy and impatient, but he’d been my guard for many years, and we had a mutual bond.

“Thanks, Hecktor,” I call after him before entering.

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