Page 49

Evander

W e approach an inn just after Quinn and I lift Bria from the horse, carefully avoiding her injuries.

We hand the horses over to a stable hand for the night, hoping this will be enough rest for them.

Inside, the establishment is small and cozy, insanely similar to our home back in the northern camp.

No side parlors or meeting rooms here though, just an open dining area where a few people from the town sit eying us when we walk in.

Despite the warmer temperatures, I asked that Bria remain cloaked in an effort to hide her fractured hand from view.

The material is blood-stained and dirty, but I stamped out as much of it as I could before putting it back on her.

And now, the dim lighting of the inn should keep it from being too visible.

Attracting the least amount of attention possible is our plan here.

Quinn approaches the innkeeper, asking for two rooms, one for the two of us and one for Bria.

I listen as he politely converses with the woman and he requests the rooms be next to each other, likely so we can be close in case anything happens to her.

But I’m not leaving her side. Quinn can have the other room to himself whether he likes it or not.

She sends a maid ahead of us with heated water for the baths and we follow the innkeeper up the stairs shortly after.

She’s kind and has no questions for us when Quinn inquires about a healer she could send up to the room.

The woman informs us dinner has already been served but she will have the maid bring food up to the rooms and will request the healer as soon as possible. No issues there, it seems.

I stop at the first door and swing it open, ushering Bria inside with a hand on her lower back.

Quinn stares at me wide-eyed as I step in behind her, but I shut the door before he has the chance to utter his complaints.

I’ll hear it at some point tonight, but it doesn’t need to be right this second.

Right now, Bria needs rest, food, and a bath while she waits for the healer.

Once in the room, I ensure the door is locked before helping Bria with her cloak and boots, asking her to get some rest while we wait.

She falls fast asleep within minutes, and I slip into the adjoining washroom, strip down, and drop my body into the bath, only using one of the buckets to clean myself and happy for a quiet moment to wipe the reminder of last night from my skin.

When I finish scrubbing myself raw, cleansing my skin of the sweat and crusted blood, it’s reddened and smells faintly of sage.

The worn towels of the inn are soft and warm, despite their age.

As I dry off, I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror and realize I desperately need to shave, or I’ll be sporting a full beard by the time we get to the capital.

I make a mental note to ask the innkeeper for a razor in the morning before we set off.

Once the bath is drained from my blood and dirt, I refill the basin, pouring in the buckets of hot water, their steam rising into lazy curls around me.

I pull my trousers back on and maneuver softly back into the bedroom, sitting down on the bed next to Bria and attempting to gently rouse her from her exhausted slumber.

I stroke her hair, trying my best not to startle her awake, lest she injure herself further before the healer arrives.

“Bria, wake up. You need to bathe,” I whisper as she stirs beneath my hands.

We weren’t able to sufficiently clean the wound in her shoulder while in that scrubland.

Quinn only managed to pour some water on it during the first stop we made while I held her still.

Infection remains a real concern if she doesn’t have it cleaned out soon.

By the looks of those men last night, I can only imagine the state of their weapons and the arrow they shot at her.

“Is there water?” she asks, her voice thick with sleep.

“Yes, it’s waiting for you,” I assure her, helping her to her feet.

Having little faith she can do all of this herself given the injuries she’s sustained, I plan to stand outside the washroom while she bathes.

There’s no chance she can use her right hand in its current condition and her shoulder is bothering her more than she’s likely to admit, making her range of motion limited.

“I’ll be out hereif you need me,” I tell her, stepping out and going to close the door behind me to give her privacy. But her quiet voice carries to me before I can go.

“Ev.” I spin back around to face her. Her hair is a tangle of gold and bronze, streaked with the deep crimson of her blood.

She looks better than she did last night, the color returning to her pink cheeks, but she’s still drained.

I can tell by how drawn her face is and how her shoulders slump when she moves.

I suppose that’s probably from the agony she’s experiencing.

“I can’t get this tunic off,” she admits, her face contorting in a frown.

“Right, I should have realized that.”Heat creeps up my neck and face and there’s no hiding the blush. I still haven’t put a shirt on, so the flushed skin of my embarrassment is on full display.

Bria raises her left arm above her head, hissing with the movement.

My stomach clenches at that noise, wanting to tell her to just go back to bed and rest, but I know better.

She needs to clean up and the hot water will relax her aching muscles until the healer arrives and can give her something to ease the pain.

I grasp the hem of her tunic and lift it gingerly, holding the excess in my hands as I slowly move it up her body.

My knuckles drag along her sides as I expose the skin of her stomach, then the swell of her breasts.

I pause so she can slide her left arm down, releasing it from the tunic before I gently pull it the rest of the way over her head.

I move carefully to release her right arm, ensuring I don’t disrupt the wrapping Quinn managed the night before.

My gaze lifts to hers and she meets me with a coquettish grin.

The fire is back in her deep cobalt eyes as she gazes at me, the flicker of flames warm and inviting.

The tunic falls from my grasp and I slide my hands to the waistband of her pants, hooking my fingers into each side.

Dropping to the ground, I kneel before her and tug them free of her hips.

When I graze a kiss across her hipbone, I hear her suck in a sharp breath before I yank them the rest of the way down and over her feet.

Gripping her calves in each hand, I run my palms up the smooth lines of her legs, resting them just below her ass.

Her perfect, supple ass. When I grasp it in both hands and squeeze tight, she shudders beneath my touch.

I know I should let her rest, let her clean up, but I’m dying for another taste of her.

To lick her until she comes in ragged gasps all over my face like she did last night.

My eyes meet hers again and it occurs to me that I’ve never seen her fully naked before now.

She’s glorious and perfect and fucking made for me.

She’s exhausted and covered in dirt and grime and blood.

And my sadistic ass has never been more turned on or wanted someone more.

A loud knock breaks our locked gaze from one another as we both turn our heads toward the bedroom.

The interruption sets my jaw in a tense line and I stand, picking her up gently and lifting her into the awaiting tub.

When her body lowers into the steaming water, she closes her eyes, wincing as her shoulder dips under.

I press my lips to her forehead and head toward the bedroom.

“I’ll be right back,” I say as I walk away, closing the door to the washroom to keep her warm and adjusting my trousers to hide the raging erection that lies within.

Gods . Damn whoever is knocking at the door right now because I’m tempted to leave them out there and squeeze my body into that tiny bath with her.

When I fling the door open to find Quinn, I almost slam it right back in his face. But he has a tray of food in his hands and folded clothing tucked under his arm. His ebony hair is still damp, pulled back into his usual knot.

“They just brought this up and the innkeeper, Rayna, said that the healer should be here shortly. She’ll bring her to us as soon as she arrives.

” Quinn moves to come inside the room, and I step aside, allowing him entrance even though I don’t want to.

“I figured we could all eat and discuss the plan for when we get to Easthallow.

When I turn from the door, Quinn has made his way to the corner of the room, laying the tray of food on the small table. He stands beside it, staring at me with heavy eyes. We are all bone-weary and drained from the travel and lack of sleep over the last day.

“Where’s Bria?” he questions.

“In the bath,” I respond, crossing my arms.

Quinn nods. “Good, she needs to get that wound cleaned out.” He moves to open the tray of food and a mix of mouthwatering scents waft from beneath it.

Fresh bread and a pot of hearty stew with beef and vegetables are set upon the tray, along with a variety of dessert pastries.

The way my stomach growls just from the smell makes me realize just how little we have eaten today—a few sticks of salted meat, stale and sour with the beginnings of rot.

“I’ll go check on her, she needs to eat before the healer gets here,” I reply, making my way back toward the washroom. To my surprise, Quinn doesn’t make a comment or try to stop me. Instead, he casts his eyes down toward the table and proceeds to ladle stew into the bowls.