Page 9 of Blood & Roses

“That makes no sense to me,” I confessed, yawning and standing from the table. I placed the now-empty glass of wine in the sink. “Lena left you blankets for the sofa. Do you need anything else?”

“I’ve slept rougher than a couch in a warm, comfortable living room,” Rowan replied dryly. “I’ll be fine.”

I rolled my eyes and didn’t reply, heading toward the stairs to my own room. The day had felt both intensely long and surprisingly short.

“Good night, Isolde,” Rowan called after me.

I turned to see him watching me, the towel back over his shoulder as he held the wine glass, his mouth a smirk and his eyes hooded. I wasn’t sure what to make of that look, so I simply replied, “Good night.”

“How exactly are you planning to get to your terrifying almost-brother-in-law’s cabin?” Rowan drawled, leaning against a tree as I contemplated the deep snow drifts the next morning.

He’d gone out early in the morning as a crow to look for his brother and found him about six miles away, somewhere between our cottage and Orson’s cabin. It had taken considerable arguing to convince him to let me recruit Orson rather than flying straight for his brother and trying to rein him in ourselves.

“I thought ahead,” I replied serenely. Owl had appeared early in the morning, hooting loudly outside my window as if he somehow guessed my plan to visit Orson. I’d sent him off with a note and a request to make the distance easier. “I’m hoping Orson will meet us partway.”

“You Frostwood elves are so unimaginative,” Rowan sighed, shifting suddenly into the stag who had rescued me. His headcanted to one side, and he snorted, his sharp antlers catching the morning sun as he nodded his head as if to say, “Climb on.”

“I am not climbing on your back,” I protested, stumbling back a step from the huge creature who had appeared in front of me.

Rowan snorted, shifting back into his elven form with a brow raised suggestively. “Too scared to ride, Isolde?” he asked, his voice a purr. Something about the way he always used my full name sent sparks shooting through my core. “I’ll be gentle.”

“Gods, you’re insufferable,” I said, face flaming as my traitorous mind imagined a very different kind of ride. Get it together, Izzy. He wasn’tthatgood looking. “Fine, but only because it seems like you can’t talk in that form.”

Rowan grinned and shifted again, the stag appearing before me with a snort. It was almost like my brain couldn’t process the visual of the shift. One moment he was a male looking sinfully rugged as he leaned against a tree; the next a beast stamping in the snow.

He tossed his head, and I approached warily, still uncertain how exactly I would climb up. He was at least two feet taller than me, his back at the same height as my shoulders.

“How do I—”

Rowan snorted again, dropping to kneel on his forelegs.

“Thank you,” I said, throwing a leg gingerly over his back and trying to steady myself without grabbing onto his antlers. This was made trickier by my skirts. They were warmer than my threadbare leather trousers, which I hadn’t had the time or, until recently,money to replace. I made a note to go shopping after this nonsense with Rowan was done.

He snorted again, almost sounding amused at my struggle as I wiggled my way inelegantly onto his back, the skirts bunching under my legs. His coarse fur was scratchy, but complaining would do no good, and I worried that throwing a blanket over his back would mean I'd slip right off him.

He chuffed as he stood as if to say, “Hold on.” I yelped as he bounded off into the snow, his galloping leaps forcing me to throw my arms around his neck and hold on for dear life.

I had to shout directions over the pounding of his hooves and use my grip on his neck to signal which way to turn. Rowan moved at breakneck speed, darting through the trees and over the snow as if he were made for it.

Which, I supposed he was in this form.

We arrived at the small, cozy cabin in less than half an hour, Rowan pulling to a stop so quickly at Owl’s welcoming hoot that I startled and tumbled off his back into a snowdrift.

“Gods!” I shrieked, the sound muffled by the snow as icy crystals cut into my cheeks and nose. Of course, I had landed face first.

“Apologies,” Rowan laughed, shifting back behind me as I struggled with the snow. He attempted to haul me out of the drift, snaking an arm around my middle as I pushed with my hands, cursing the whole time. All he accomplished was losing his own footing, and he and I toppled together back into the snow.

I scowled at him as he laughed, his cheeks flushed from the gallop through the snow and eyes bright with mischief.

“You have snow in your eyelashes,” he chuckled, lifting a hand and meeting my eyes. I was half on his lap, and I felt my scowl melt into something warm and uncertain as he smiled down at me, his arm warm around me as his gloved fingers brushed snow from my face. “There.”

My heart gave an unwelcome thump. Gods, I had no patience or time for romance, but my stupid brain seemed to have forgotten that as Rowan’s hand rested on my jaw, and my pulse quickened.

He swallowed, and I felt oddly warm as I watched his throat bob with the movement, his gaze intent upon mine. “Are you well?” he murmured, his fingers pausing on my cheek.

“What?” I asked stupidly, feeling like my brain might have melted under his ministrations.

Owl hooted above us, as if reminding us that we had business to do.