Page 23 of Skyshade
In a rush, it raked her across the bottom of the tunnel, her shirt the only thing keeping her skin from being ripped apart. Faster. Faster. The water took them down, then farther, and she felt stone above her, as she moved through a different tunnel, a tighter one. Hope engulfed her. Maybe she had been right.
Just as quickly, panic closed in as closely as the rock that surrounded her. The space had become as narrow as a tomb. What if it narrowed further and she got stuck? She would drown in seconds. She was drowning now.
The pressure in her chest built. Roaring filled her ears. Spots clouded her vision. She came to a stop.
Then one great surge pushed against her feet, and she was careening forward, downward, faster than before. She was thrown in every direction, rock scraping her bare skin, her throat constricting, her head throbbing, lungs burning. Just when she thought she couldn’t take itany longer, she flew forward out of the tunnel, where she landed in a pool of water. She let out a choking sob as oxygen flooded her lungs.
Grim.
He broke through the water next to her a second later. His eyes were wild, and their intensity didn’t dim as he found hers. She was coughing, gasping, feeling like she was going to retch but seeing him safe, knowing they had survived the tunnel—
Their arms were around each other in an instant. She didn’t realize she was shaking or crying until he smoothed his large hands down her spine. “You’re okay,” he said, as if he was saying it to himself as well. “Because of you...we’re okay.”
They had nearly drowned. Her lungs still burned. She buried her face in his neck as he carried them through the pool, toward its edge. He whispered soothing sounds against the top of her head. His hands continued their gentle strokes up and down her back as she trembled against him. She was freezing. He was naturally cold; but compared to the water he was warm, so she clung to his chest. Safe. She felt safe in his arms. She knew it was wrong; but when he hauled her out of the water, she found herself grieving the loss of his skin against hers. She braced for more chill, but the rock was surprisingly warm beneath her hands.
After retrieving her pack that had gotten lost in the spring, he hauled himself out of the pool and straightened to his full height, towering over her. His clothes were molded to his body and dripping, their runoff forming a puddle at his feet. She swallowed, heart still hammering.
Then he began removing his clothing.
Logically, she knew it was because they were wet. They needed to dry off before they advanced. They would freeze in their drenched clothing, especially in the cold tunnels.
But there was nothing logical about the way she watched him. About the way she couldn’t bring herself to look away from his chest,muscled to perfection and marred by a single unhealed scar. Or his legs. He was built like a statue. Like a warrior. She swallowed.
“You’re leering at me.”
She immediately found somewhere else to look. “I am not.”
“Leer away, wife. I don’t mind.”
Isla scowled and pulled herself to her feet with a groan. Her leg still ached. Her breaths remained labored. Meeting his gaze, she began to take her clothing off too, slowly, piece by piece. She watched his throat work. For all his smugness, he turned away a moment later, seeming very preoccupied with laying his clothing perfectly across the rock, alongside their soaked blankets.
Just like him, she kept her undergarments on. She laid her clothes out flat. Then, she rested against the rock. It was warm—comfortable, even—a balm against the spiking chill of the pool. The groan that escaped her as the stone pressed against her skin was mortifying. She pressed her lips together as her skin flushed.
Any hope that he hadn’t heard her died when she turned to find him staring. No. He was leering. Just as she had.
She wasn’t sure he was breathing.
They wouldn’t survive the rest of the journey if they both died of hypothermia. She tried to appear unaffected as she motioned toward the space next to her. “Are you going to warm yourself, or just stand there with your mouth hanging open?”
Grim didn’t even try for a retort. His eyes didn’t leave hers as he slowly lowered himself to the ground next to her, careful not to touch her skin.
Sleep. They needed to sleep. Their bodies were spent from the journey. Now, the inside of the mountain was quiet, but who knew what they would soon face?
She turned away from him, pressing her eyes shut.
Cold air hissed through the tunnels of the cave, making her skin prickle everywhere. She shivered. Sleeping on her side wouldn’twork. Not like this, anyway. Any part not touching the warm rock was numb. She shifted slightly closer to Grim and found that it helped.
“You’re freezing, aren’t you?”
She didn’t deign to respond. She wasn’t used to the cold. The Wildling newland was always warm. Terra had tried to train her in as many different environments as she could, but even the worst of trials hadn’t been close to this.
“You hate the cold.”
She did. He knew her. Bastard.
He shifted slightly closer to her. She stiffened. “Who likes the cold?” she asked, tone biting.
“I do.” She knew that too.
