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“And how do you know that?” he asked as he removed his boots.

She watched him kick them off. “Because my grandmother once told me that if you can look a person in the eye, you can see who they truly are, you can see their soul. And when I look at you, I don’t find anything bad.” Her words caused a conflict in his chest and he stood still. “Misunderstood, maybe, but not bad. Not after everything you have done for me.”

Torin waited a moment before he stripped off his leathers, just leaving him in his underwear. Emara’s pupils dilated and her cheeks turned red. Her full, beautiful lips parted, telling Torin she liked what she saw. Good. But he took a few seconds to ponder over what she had said as he turned around and dropped his underwear. He got in the tub, and the roasting water warmed his feet.

“Misunderstood, maybe, but not bad. Not after everything you have done for me.”

He finally looked over at her. “If you are talking about me protecting your life, protecting you, then do not think that for one second I would choose otherwise.” His tone changed as he sat down. “But that doesn’t make me a good person. It makes me good at what I do.”

He wiped a hand down his face, and with it came blood and dirt from the fight.

“No.” She shook her head, as she sat watching him from the bed. “What makes you a good person is how you have helped me. How, at times, you have given me the truth I deserved to hear, even when I didn’t want it. And how you have pushed me to own who I am. You are a good person because you have integrity. I know you are good because I feel it when I am with you.”

His mouth dried, and he scrubbed the soap over his body. “You don’t know what I am capable of, what I have been trained to become from a young age.”

She hadn’t seen first-hand what he had done, not completely. Hunting wasn’t always dealing with just demons and the underworld.

He rose from the tub, grabbing a towel and placing it over his hips. Emara pretended to politely fiddle with the pages in her book, but Torin knew there was no way she was reading anything, especially with that pink blush spreading her cheeks.

After a few moments of silence and Torin getting ready for sleep, he sat on the edge of the bed. He hung his head and looked down at his hands. “I appreciate the fact that you think I am good, Emara. But I just don’t want to disappoint you when you see me do something that isn’t.”

Because that would come. It was inevitable with him. He had the worst temper, and an undeniable rebellion that burned his heart dark. That combination was always a recipe for disappointment. His father had told him that countless times.

When Emara didn’t speak, Torin leaned back with a sigh and rested his head against a pillow.

To his surprise, Emara turned to face him. “I maybe can’t see what goes on in your head,” she said, “but I think I understand what conflicts you.” She reached out, running a hand along his arm before it settled there. His eyes followed it, in disbelief. “You question if your duty is worth it—if it is all worth it. You are unsure if your reason to be born is what you truly want to be. Maybe I am wrong, but I think you want more than that.”

He turned onto his side, his massive frame, taking up a lot of the bed, but his eyes rested on her. His heart rate increased. “Like you do? You want more from life too.”

She looked down at her hand on his arm. “That’s where I have to admit that we do have some similarities, Torin Blacksteel. We don't like to settle.”

He wasn’t sure he was even in control of his own limbs as she ran her fingers down his arm and grabbed his hand. She squeezed it, and he lay still, waiting for her next command. She said nothing else.

As they looked at one another, Torin realised it was the kind of exposure he wasn’t used to.

He felt seen. And that wasn’t normal.

But she wasn’t normal. She was a paradox, a beautiful, intelligent, terribly stubborn, surprisingly sensual, paradox. And he had never wanted to protect something, someone, so much in his entire life. As her eyes closed and her breathing turned heavy, he realised he would take anything he could get from her, no matter how trivial. A glance, a brush of their hands, a deep talk, a laugh, a kiss. A game of who would cave first. He would cave again and again, and he would play her game forever, even if it meant he never won at all. Because even with her just letting him close, like they were now, he had won an entirely different game altogether.

Torin had made the decision the following morning that they weren’t leaving the inn. The snow had fallen thick, and the wind had picked up, making travel impossible. He also pointed out that it would allow them all time to rest, especially time for Magin to heal. So Emara had read through some books on magic that Naya had gifted her, and she even snuck in a chapter or two of Torin’s book on weaponry. He had made himself almost invisible except at night, when he had come through her door soaking wet from his patrol around the forest near the inn. He had taken a quick bath, sighing in relief at the warmth, and Emara had tried her hardest to keep her eyes on the pages of her book like she had done the night before.

Falling asleep was easy when it was next to a warrior who could fight off any of your demons, and the beating of his heart had been a soft lullaby in the night as he lay next to her, sending her body into a calming sleep. No crimson eyes or razor-sharp claws revealed themselves in her dreams that night, not lying beside Torin Blacksteel.

Although her eyes were not open and she was somewhere in between this realm and the one of rest, she felt light flash past her. Heat warmed her face, but it felt unnatural, not like the fire that still crackled lowly across from the bathing tub.

Emara felt a presence in the room.

Half-concerned, she blinked one eye open, scanning the room for anyone who had come in. Her head still lay against the pillow, but during the night, her hand had found Torin’s, and it seemed to still be intertwined with his. She opened both eyes, her heart picking up speed from its lazy slumber.

It couldn’t be morning.

Torin didn’t stir, his breathing deep and wandering, his brow smooth and unbothered by his thoughts.

Her heart ceased as she glanced from Torin to a large orb that hovered close to the door. Radiant light poured from the colourful sphere that dangled like a small Faerie in the middle of the room. She removed her hand from Torin’s, fixated on the bobbing globe, and blinked again, convinced she was seeing things.

Dreaming.

She had to be.