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When she got down all she could manage, Arianna set the bowl on the side table and leaned back into the pillow.

After a long moment, the bed shifted.

She froze, her heart racing, and Arianna risked a glance to her right.

Rion, this seemingly flawless, powerful male, was lying beside her, in the same bed, clad in nothing but those black pants that hung perfectly from his waist. He’d already closed his eyes and folded his hands over his chest.

Gods help her. She watched him from the corner of her eye and could have sworn his breathing accelerated as well. Damn it he could probably smell desire all over her. But she was of that age now and—no. She turned her head away. That was the fever talking. He was an enemy of Móirín. He was a killer of her people and she’d promised herself to Talon. Though not in so many words.

Rion’s breathing finally evened out and she glanced at him again. His facial muscles were more relaxed now and his lips had parted slightly.

She didn’t understand the feelings coursing through her body, especially in her sick state, but there was one thing she did know. For reasons beyond her control, Arianna wanted this male to trust her. She wanted him to talk to her and the way he’d been fussing over her the last two days made her wonder if he felt the same.

Demon.

Was he truly a demon or had a cruel life forged him into one?

Chapter Thirteen

Arianna

Arianna’s eyes fluttered open, her headache gone and body feeling far more like itself than the day before. The fire had dimmed, leaving a chill to the air, and she thought about adding more logs to it until she tilted her head to the side.

Arianna sucked in a breath.

Auburn hair had fallen over his relaxed face, his slow even breathing the strands’ only disturbance. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him without his brow furrowed in rage or pinched in confusion. It was smooth now, not a single worry line marring his beautiful face.

His lips were parted, revealing the sharp canines she was sure had torn through more throats than she could count.

Who knew a monster could appear so serene?

Legends. Fables. Myths. She’d heard them all, but had any of those old scholars bothered to speak with those labeled as one of the cursed? Or had they simply reacted the way they were taught?

Arianna struggled to blindly follow those teachings now. After everything the gods denied them and the way their own families treated them, who wouldn’t turn into a savage beast? They denied him happiness at every angle. The magic itself. The isolation. No animal shift or mate.

What was life without love?

His chest rose and fell, slow and steady. One hand rested lightly on his stomach, fingertips grazing the fresh scar. He’d moved the other beside his face, palm up. Mere inches from hers.

Arianna’s breath turned shallow and, despite what he’d asked of her the other day, she couldn’t resist reaching for his arm. Slowly, so as not to disturb the bed, she ran one fingertip along the vein in his forearm. His skin was smooth, warm, soft. Nothing like what she might have imagined.

At one time, his earth had all but torn through her flesh, leaving it raw and bleeding, but it was still now. Silent.

Arianna traced the vein to his elbow, then ran her fingertip back up toward his hand. She smiled to herself, wondering if—his eyes flew open, and she scented his fear a mere second before his body was on top of hers. His fingers dug painfully into her wrists, and he slammed them above her head, pinning her entire body in place with that lethal magic of his. Rion snarled in her ear, fangs grazing the sensitive skin at the base of her throat.

Arianna froze, clenching her eyes shut, and images of the males he’d killed flashed across her vision. His magic was all over her, wrapping around her arms and legs, grating against her skin as if daring her to move.

Stupid. She was so utterly stupid.

Seconds passed and ever so slowly his breathing returned to normal. Arianna refused to move, even as his shoulders relaxed and the grip on her hands loosened a fraction.

With a ragged breath, Rion pulled back just enough to study her face. “What were you doing?” His voice held that commander’s tone. One she couldn’t disobey. She risked a glance at his face. His lips were still pulled back, fangs out, eyes wild.

And Arianna was a damned fool.

Because that warrior’s body was pressing in on her, his warmth seeping through the blankets. Because his breath was hitting her face, drowning her in his powerful scent. And because everything about him that should’ve sent fear coursing through her body sent thrills of delight instead.

“I—I’m sorry.” How foolish could she get? Of course, he’d wake up, who wouldn’t? And who was she to touch him while he slept? He’d offered her his bed as a compassionate gesture, and she’d violated his personal space.