Page 63 of The Shattered Kingdom
“I don’t want to wear a dress in the forest,” I say. “I want pants and a shirt, preferably stretchy and form-fitting.”
Kie nods, stripping to his underwear. The tight black fabric does little to hide the skin underneath. I want to see him, mainly out of pure curiosity, but I won’t ask. He doesn’t deserve my eyes on his penis. Mason doesn’t, either, but that ship has already sailed.
I point to the bed. “Lie down.”
Mason’s dresser is full of lounge clothing, and I find the lounge pants he gave me to wear on my first day here and a comfortable shirt.
Kie slides under the sheets, his movements robotic and tense. He acts like a midday nap is going to kill him.
I draw in a slow breath before joining him in bed. It’s awkward, and we shift until he wraps himself around me, my back to his front. I’m allowing the man who tried gifting me to a god to spoon me. I’ve lost all control of my life.
I clear my throat. “Go to sleep.”
Kie slips a hand up my shirt and presses his palm over my heart, and I involuntarily shiver. Our bond is working overtime to make me comfortable with him, and it’s succeeding.
“You’re okay,” he whispers.
I don’t think he’s talking to me. Still, I respond.
“I’m okay. Go to sleep, Kie.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
ABBY
ONCE KIE FALLS asleep, he’s out cold. The hand he insisted on resting over my heart falls limp, and his arm on my waist grows heavy. I feel a strange sense of accomplishment at having successfully gotten him to sleep.
Mason sneaks into the room, his eyes darting rapidly between Kie and me as he packs a bag for tomorrow. I assume he’s going to pack one for me, too. I hope so, at least. We don’t plan on being gone for long, but Kie and Mason want to be prepared.
“Are you hungry?” Mason whispers.
I shrug, and Mason returns several minutes later with a platter of food. Kie groans, rolling over, and I take that as my opportunity to sit up and eat. I’d leave the bed altogether if I didn’t fear it would wake Kie up.
Mason finds excuses to linger in the room while I eat, but we don’t speak out of fear of waking the testy faerie. Should I ask Mason about his father? Does he evenwantto talk about it? I can’t tell.
“You should rest, too,” Mason eventually says.
“I’m not tired.”
Mason raises a brow. “You sound like Kie.”
He shuts his curtains, plunging the room into darkness. I glare in his general direction, or at least what I assume to be his general direction.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Go to sleep, Abby.”
The empty platter is eased out of my hands, and the bedroom door shuts a second later. I’m not tired, and I cross my arms over my chest as I sink back down. Kie rolls over again, pulling me into his arms.
He hooks a thigh over my waist for good measure, trapping me in place. I let myself enjoy it, but only because he’s sleeping and won’t know. I can’t remember the last time I was cuddled, and it’s nice. I feel warm, and safe.
I fall asleep.
I don’t wake up until the next morning.
I’m in only my underwear, and my skin is slick with sweat. The faerie beside me is a furnace, and our sticky bodies are practically fused together.
Something is quietly vibrating on the bedside table on my left, and I fight back a yawn as I turn to see what it is. On the table is a dark shard of glass that wasn’t there yesterday, and I raise my brows as I realize it’s one of those magic enhancers Samuel used.
