Page 24 of Skyshade
Still, she laughed without humor. “You must be thrilled about our current circumstances, then.”
“No, not particularly. I’m watching my injured wife shiver like a leaf in a storm in front of me.”
She glared at him over her shoulder. “Stop calling me that.”
“A leaf in a storm?”
Her eyes narrowed further.
“Wife?”
“Yes,” she hissed.
“No.”
She flipped to completely face him. “What do you mean, no?”
“No,” he repeated. “You are my wife.” His gaze dropped to her necklace. She didn’t so much as move as he dragged a finger down her throat, then across her collarbones, tracing a slow circle around the massive stone. He leaned in. His breath was hot against her pulse as he said, “I’m your husband. I’m yours.” His voice was nearly a growl as he said, “And you...wife...are mine.”
A warmth dropped through her. She tried to ignore it. “I don’t see you wearing anything around your neck.”
He didn’t so much as falter. “That can be arranged.”
She gave him a withering look that didn’t hold any real bite. Not when his finger was slowly tracing the path from her collarbone to her chest, stopping just short of the thin fabric she wore.
“Cold, Hearteater?”
“No,” she said, with all the conviction in the world, only to follow his gaze and see that her chest was very clearly peaked and visible through her undergarments.
She stiffened, and Grim dropped his hand. She shivered involuntarily at the loss of contact, the loss of the tiny bit of heat.
All she wanted was to be closer, but she forced herself to turn around again. She wrapped her arms around herself, covering her chest, and tried to forget who was behind her.
Minutes later, she was still freezing. She couldn’t take it any longer. The prophet-followers were her only hope of obtaining more information about the prophecy. If she didn’t at least rest a few hours, she wouldn’t have the strength to press forward.
That was what she told herself, anyway, as she scooted back and said, “Do you—do you mind?”
“No. Come here.” His arm circled her waist. He gently dragged her back, cradling her against his chest.
And then, she was enveloped by him.
She was finding it hard to breathe normally. The fabric of her underthings didn’t create any kind of barrier. It was just skin and muscle, and his hard edges against the softest parts of her, and heat flowing through her as soon as the cold was banished.
Being this close to him was like being in a storm, wrapped in everything him.
This was wrong. How did they end up here, on the ground, in nothing but bits of fabric, folded around each other?
He was her enemy. She was in love with someone else.
She knew she should get up, but she didn’t want to. She was tired, hurt, and cold, and all she wanted was to lay here, for just a little while, and be relieved that they had survived.
Comfort—that was what she needed, and what he offered her as he wrapped his body fully around hers, shielding her from the cold. She leaned into his touch just a little too much. She felt herself sigh when his nose ran down the length of her neck. She shifted back, pressing against him, some part of her finally relaxing, as if it had waited a long time to be back in his arms.
Only for a little while, she reminded herself.
She thought it even as her eyelids drooped, and she was smothered by sleep.
She awoke wrapped in Grim’s arms. At first, for a few strange moments, she didn’t know where she was—only that it felt familiar to be surrounded by the smell of storms and spice and something distinctly masculine. To be held in these arms. She let out a peaceful sound and wriggled back, against him. Against something hard.
