Page 67 of Destiny Redeemed
“Now I’m ready,” I declared, trying to ignore how the warm blood on my hands quickly cooled in the rain.
Anderic’s shoulders shook with quiet laughter as he shook his head. “You are truly something else, Lya.” He extended his hand to me. “Most women would be screaming or fainting by now.”
“Most women haven’t died before,” I replied without thinking, taking his warm hand.
His fingers tightened around mine. “What did you just say?”
Oh, hell.
“Nothing. Let’s find this cave of yours. I’m freezing.” And I actually was freezing. Thankfully, Anderic didn’t ask anything further.
We stumbled along the muddy shore, my ruined slippers offering no protection against the sharp rocks and gnarled roots. Anderic kept a tight grip on my hand, steadying me whenever I slipped. Each flash of lightning revealed a little more of the path ahead, guiding us in fits and starts through the darkness.
After what felt like an eternity of mud, rain, and misery, the dark mouth of a cave appeared before us. We ducked inside, grateful for even this small reprieve from the relentless downpour.
The cave wasn’t large, but it was dry. Its ceiling rose just high enough for Anderic to stand without stooping, and it extended perhaps fifteen feet into the hillside. The ground was surprisingly smooth—worn so by years of lake water, if I had to guess.
“Wait here,” Anderic instructed, releasing my hand. He disappeared back into the rain, returning moments later with an armful of relatively dry wood from beneath an overhang. “These should still catch.”
I watched, teeth still chattering, as he arranged the wood and worked to start a fire. His hands moved with practiced efficiency, striking flint against steel until sparks caught the driest kindling. A small flame bloomed, then grew as he carefully fed it larger pieces.
As the fire’s glow filled the cave, I became painfully aware of my appearance—dress torn and muddy, hair a tangled mess, and blood splattered across my bodice.
Quite the picture of nobility. Mother would be horrified.
The heat of the fire reached me in waves, and I inched closer, holding my trembling hands toward the flames. Anderic’s gazemet mine across the fire, his eyes reflecting the dancing light in a way that made my breath catch in my throat.
“You should take that dress off,” he said, his voice low and rough. “It’s soaked through.”
I inched away from him, my eyes widening. “W-why would I need to take off my dress?” The stutter wasn’t intentional, but the chill had settled deep in my bones, making my teeth chatter uncontrollably.
Anderic’s eyes flickered with amusement. “Because, Princess, if you don’t want to freeze to death, you need to get out of those wet clothes.” He stood up, towering over me in the firelight. “The cold will kill you faster than modesty will save you.”
Well, when he puts it that way…
Not that he gave me a chance to argue—before I could open my mouth to say anything, he was already shedding layers without a hint of hesitation.
With deliberate slowness, he removed his cape first, the sodden fabric making a wet slap as it hit the stone floor. His fingers moved to the buttons of his coat next, unfastening them one by one. I should have looked away. I really should have. But I couldn’t tear my eyes from the hypnotic movement of his hands.
The coat joined the cape, and then his fingers went to work on his shirt. The thin, wet fabric clung to his chest, outlining every ridge and plane of muscle beneath. When he finally peeled it away, I had to swallow hard. Firelight danced across his skin, highlighting the sharp angles of his collarbone, the defined muscles of his chest, and the tapering line of his waist. A few scars marked his golden skin—evidence of battles won or training sessions gone awry.
He bent to remove his boots, the movement causing the muscles in his back to flex and shift. When he straightened, hishands went to the fastening of his trousers, and I felt my breath catch.
Please don’t. Or please do. I’m not entirely sure which I want more.
But he stopped there, leaving his trousers on. I exhaled softly in relief—and yes, a touch of disappointment.
“If you’re done ogling me, Princess, it’s your turn.” His voice cut through my daze, low and amused. “Unless you’d prefer I help you?”
“I’m perfectly capable,” I said, turning my back to him. I fumbled with the fastenings of my gown, acutely aware of his gaze on me. The wet fabric clung stubbornly to my skin, requiring me to peel it away inch by inch. Finally, I stood in nothing but my slip—a thin, once-elegant piece of silk that now clung to my every curve like a second skin.
I turned slowly, and our eyes locked immediately. His gaze traveled down, lingering on the curves now clearly visible through the rain-soaked silk. The slip might as well have been transparent, for all the modesty it provided. But Anderic said nothing, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.
Thank God for dim lighting. At least the fire’s glow hides my blush.
“I’ll put our clothes on that rock to dry,” I said, clearing my throat and gathering our sodden garments. The fabric of his shirt was still warm from his body as I spread it carefully beside the fire.
When I returned, there was nowhere to sit but beside him, our shoulders nearly touching in the cramped space. The tension in the air was thick enough to slice with my dagger. I stared into the flames, searching for something—anything—to say.
