Page 37 of The Rat King
“Well, I remembered how defensive you were when I used magic to move it to the carriage the day I picked you up, so I figured it was pretty important to you. It was still in your room, forgotten about. I sensed it and had it moved here.”
“It is. Thank you,” I said. That was really sweet of him to notice it. I figured I’d never get my things back, and I tried to become resigned to that fact as we plodded along while I peppered him with questions. I should have been consumed with gratitude for being alive, but those were the only things I had from my plane and they mattered to me.
“Good. I’m glad I could do something to make you happy.” His face was severe, but his smile was warm which sent warm tingles through me the same way riding bundled in his arms had.
“How many more days until we get to where we’re going?” I asked, wondering if he’d be getting me my own horse or we’d be riding that towering beast together for the remainder of the journey.
“It’s almost two weeks to my home,” he said.
Okay, so we were going to his home, in exile. I supposed that was safe enough. When I asked nothing further, he said, “I’ll be right here if you need anything. Leave the door cracked so I can hear you and if you get scared, don’t hesitate to call out.”
I nodded. As he slipped through the door joining our rooms, a knock at my door sounded and two attendants, who looked unhappy to be awoken, shuffled into the room, carrying large buckets of steaming water. It wasn’t enough to fill the tub, but I was grateful I’d be able to sponge the blood away, discard this disgusting prison dress, and get clean.
I set out a few towels provided by the inn, stripped down and got to work. There was more blood on me, beneath my clothes than I expected. With each pass of the warm sponge, the water would tint a darker shade of pink until it was almost red. As I rinsed it, then dipped into the clean water, my grip became weak, and my hand trembled a little more violently.
It wasn’t long before tears were streaming down my face and my full body had taken up the tremors. Everything from the last eight months hit me like a landslide, taking me down with all the dirt and debris, crushing everything in its wake. I’d been forced to marry a monster, a supposed nice guy, who’d attacked me when he hadn’t gotten what he wanted. Who I’d killed, because let’s be honest, if he hadn’t impaled himself on that blade, I would have pressed it into him.
And right now, I was cleaning away the blood of Annabelle and four other human beings, whose crimes I did not know, whose heads I heard hit the wood planks, whose blood I was made to kneel in. A sob tore from my throat, then another, and another, until ugly tears were cascading down my cheeks and a black hole had opened inside me. How did I end up here? I was perfectly content to bartend and dabble with my half of a theater degree.
I had no power, and I still had that yearning for something more. And look at where it got me. I kicked over the bucket and the bloody water splashed out over the floor, tinting the white towel pink. The liquid reminded me of Xavier’s blood spreading, and my sobs redoubled their strength.
Somewhere in the corner of my awareness, I felt a heavy, foreboding presence, but I wasn’t coherent enough to notice. Suddenly I was weak. My trembling legs gave out, and I fell. Before my knees hit the ground, big arms were around me and my naked body was hauled against a really hard chest.
“No, Nighval,” I said, trying to spit the words out through my gasps.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” he said, ignoring my plea. He placed me on the bed, fully nude still, then gathered the comforter around me, wrapping me up like a burrito. He scooped me up, like I weighed nothing, carried me past the pool of dirty water eyeing it, and into his room. I glanced back toward my room. Noticing he said, “Don’t worry, your things will be safe until you wake. You need to sleep.”
Instead of placing me on the bed in his room, he shifted the pillows around and sat so his back was leaning against them and the headboard, with me in his arms like he was cradling a baby. My tears slowed to a stream instead of a deluge, and I regarded him. “I can’t sleep.”
He pressed my head into his chest, so the top of my head was nestled into the crook of his neck. The angle made it to where I was staring down the length of his long body. He wore a pair of soft charcoal linen pants, and his feet were bare and crossed at the ankle. Very nice feet, I noted. That brought my attention to the chest that I only just realized was bare, that I’d been crying on. Oh Goddess, I was wrapped in the arms of the brother of the man I’d murdered, bawling into his bare, very firm chest.
And it felt good, the way he was holding me. Stroking my hair like I was something precious, that needed to be comforted at all costs. I really needed to get up and get back to my room. This was inappropriate on so many levels.
“I’m fine,” I said, wiggling to free myself, but it was of no use.
“You’re not fine, so either go to sleep or keep crying. I don’t care. I’m not letting you go. Understand?” The way his one arm was locked around me, like it had been on the horse after I told him what happened, suggested he meant what he said, so I relented, easing into him. I’d come to my senses in the morning.
So instead of trying, I drew in a breath savoring the smell of thunderstorms and firewood that—Goddess—that was his skin. The familiar scent had a comforting quality to it and when I tried to remember where I’d smelled it before my headache threatened to bloom again. After everything I’d experienced, I probably shouldn’t be thinking so hard. Instead, I should just let the yummy maleness drifting up into my nostrils wrap around me like a cocoon.
I nestled in closer ready to savor—what was I thinking? I was definitely going to come to my senses in the morning because the last month had obviously messed with my brain, and I was experiencing some serious PTSD right now. It would take time for me to work out all the feelings I had and more sessions while I bawled my eyes out to get past this. Still, I might as well enjoy the warmth this man was offering me. He wasn’t prying or making me tell him what I lost it over. He only glanced at the overturned bucket, seemed to understand, and carried me to safety.
I could live with that. Correction. Tonight, I would live with that. Tomorrow, I’d have to explain to him he couldn’t just carry a naked woman off wrapped only in a blanket, regardless of how hysterical she was being. But, again, tonight… I snuggled in closer and felt his chin settle into my hair. Tonight, I would sink into the comforting illusion that I wasn’t alone.
Chapter 25
Nighval
WhenIawoke,thewitch, no—Avery—was still asleep in my arms. In the few hours of night remaining, either one or both of us had scooted down, so I was mostly reclined across the pillows, and she was half on top of me, and I had both arms around her blanket-clad body. I’m not sure anything ever felt more intoxicating than this woman nestled into my body, like I was her protector. Last night, I felt her inner struggle as she settled into me, finally giving in to the comfort I was offering her.
As the first sob woke me, I’d resolved to let her go through it. To give her space to work out her feelings, but when the contents of that bucket splashed across the room, followed by that guttural sound which twisted my guts, I had to go to her. Was this what it was like when you claimed a woman? Had I already done that with her and not known it? The way her heart ached, it was like my own was aching right alongside it. Surely not, but in that moment, I would have done anything to take away her pain. Which was horrible because when she found out what I was up to, it would cause her another river of sorrow.
I’d stop that from happening. When I’d taken her, forced her to take that pill, my thoughts had been aimed in an entirely different direction. I had been hurt and angry at her rejection. The memory of how she’d stepped behind Xavier stung, but now as I studied her beautiful sleeping face, something shifted. Resisting the urge to kiss those freckles, I slid out from under her as gently as I could, splashed some water on my face and threw on a change of clothes. After cleaning up what was left of the water, I stuffed the soiled towels in the overturned bucket and placed it outside the door.
This morning I’d give her space to sort things out and let her sleep as long as she needed. I went downstairs to order them to have some fresh water waiting for her and some bread and cheese. She’d come down when she was ready, and I’d be here, ready to go. If I was lucky, maybe I could get her to confide the swirling thoughts in her mind to me. Get her to trust me, because after the way I felt waking up with her, I knew I had to experience that for a hundred mornings, more if I got my magic back.
I’d do whatever it took to do that. When she roared and wailed at me after she found out, I’d take it. Then I’d find a way back into her arms.
Chapter 26
