Page 20

I wake in a cool, dark room. Water drips in the distance in a disquieting rhythm. Sitting up, I’m instantly aware of how wet and grimy I feel. Did I not bathe before going to bed?

I push myself up straighter, alarm bells ringing when I find stone under the pads of my fingertips instead of bedding. “Deah?” I whisper into the inky darkness.

A scraping sound in front of me has me tensing. It comes closer. A match strikes, and the hideous face that shakes me from nightmares takes frame before me.

Abacae .

His wide, thin-lipped mouth stretches over needle-like teeth as he smiles at me. For an excruciating moment, he watches me. His breathing slightly ragged, grunting with effort through every inhale.

“Did you forget?” His smile is sickly sweet, awaiting the question he knows I have to ask next.

I swallow, focusing on the incessant dripping instead of his terrifying face. “Forget what?” My voice is strangled, hoarse.

Have I been screaming?

His bleak eyes narrow on me as he comes closer. I try to lean away but find stones directly behind me. I press into them, wanting to put any distance I can from his nauseating breath.

“What all of this was for?” His dark laugh jolts me, making me thrash. I’m met with sheets and pillows, sending them to the floor .

I’m in my room.

I peer around slowly, thankful for the moonlight that Deah allows into our sleeping quarters. Deah still sleeps soundly, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

Only a nightmare.

Nausea grips my gut as I recall the note in Westyn’s pack—the state of his body. I peel myself from the bed, knowing sleep will evade me anyhow.

Snatching up a change of clothes, I retreat into the hall. Closing the door softly, I turn to find Ridge. His knees are bent, forearms resting on them as his head leans on the wall behind him, sleeping.

Even in this vulnerable state, the male is somehow still desirable.

He startles, opening his eyes and leaping to his feet instantaneously. “Where are you going?” he asks at the same time I blurt out “What are you doing here?”

I shake my head. “You’re asleep in my hallway. You go first.” I should feel more self-conscious about him seeing me in my flimsy nightgown than I do.

Every muscle in his body seems ready to snap, his massive chest rising and falling rapidly. My traitorous eyes dip to that chest, the muscles so visible under his worn gray shirt.

“I was worried about you,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. He offers a sheepish smile. “I didn’t want to bother you, but I wasn’t sure how you’d react after summoning a new power and Lotog being injured.”

“Is Lotog—”

“Still alive,” Ridge confirms, nodding his head.

“Orion? Hans?”

“Hans is better now that Lotog is stable. Orion doesn’t have a scratch on him.”

Thank gods. The tension releases in my shoulders.

Ridge dares a single step closer to me. I meet his stare, his attention wholly transfixed on me. Rubbing at my upper arms, I attempt to steady my trembling hands .

“I’m going to wash up,” I say, gesturing to the bathing chamber uselessly. “Come with me. You can stand guard in there.”

“I—” He blinks, as if registering the words. “Is that a good idea?”

“It’s definitely an idea; we can decide in a moment if it’s a good one.” My fire tingles under my skin as if wanting to join the dalliance.

He stays locked in place. “You asked me to be straightforward with you.”

I can’t help but drag my teeth along my bottom lip. When his eyes dip to my mouth, my soul feels as if it catches fire. “I recall asking,” I say lightly, looking up at those golden eyes. “I don’t recall you being straightforward with me, though.”

He dares another step toward me, and I absentmindedly match it. There’s an undeniable gravitational pull, and I desperately want to give into it.

“Because I don’t understand it.” There’s a wariness in his tone, even as he inches closer. “I know I should stay away from you, yet the thought of another male touching makes me want to end their life.”

I swallow, gulping down a shaking breath. My fire rages beneath the surface at his words. “That has to be hyperbolic.”

Ridge closes the remaining gap between us, strolling to stand in front of me. His gaze dips to my mouth again, then up to hold my stare. There’s this unearthly energy between us that keeps me entranced. The warmth ripping through my veins is addictive.

His demeanor remains poised, tilting his head slightly. “It’s not.” He pauses, brow furrowed in thought. “This is why I couldn’t be straightforward like you asked me to be. The Fae are a possessive breed, and I am more so than most. I’ve lived long enough to know not to gamble on irreplaceable things.” His voice drops lower with the last bit, eyes scanning my face.

The truth in his answer jerks the air from my lungs. Need pulses in places I refuse to think about right now.

He stands perfectly still, a playful grin forming. “If you still need me to be more direct, I consider you irreplaceable, Aledrya.”

I take a deep breath to steady my pounding heart. “So, now I’m trustworthy to you? ”

Ridge catches my chin, watching me through heavy-lidded eyes. “I’m beginning to see that you care about the Ravels…your friends.” His gaze sets me on fire. “I think you’re worthy of many things.”

It’s a chore to take my eyes off his mouth.

Ridge’s lips pull into a cocky smile, eyes grazing over my face. The heat in my core is unbearable, even more so as he slowly moves his hand, thumb brushing over my bottom lip. My fingertips find his chest, his heart beating as wildly as mine.

“Do you think you’re worthy, Aledrya?”

His question shakes me from the trance I’d been lulled into. “Depends.”

“It shouldn’t.” His voice is doing wicked, tortuous things to me.

“And what does that have to do with this?” I ask breathlessly.

“Everything.” His fingers trace my bottom lip once more, before moving along my jaw. His touch leaves a trail of goosebumps in their wake; so at odds with the stinging flame that desperately wants to escape from my fingers.

Whatever he finds in my face causes him to blink. His hand slips to the nape of my neck, tugging on my hair to angle my head up to his. “And you see, that’s the difficult part of this,” he murmurs. “You’re worthy of many things, but I am not.”

I hold his stare. His words play on a loop in my mind, but I still can’t comprehend them. “Why would you say that?”

Ridge’s throat works on a swallow, the column of his neck flexing with the movement. He ignores my question. “Are you done mulling over what I told you?”

“No,” I admit, although the way my heart is pounding, I would say it disagrees.

He smirks, but the coyness doesn’t meet his eyes this time. When he releases his hold on me, backing a step, I suppress a whimper. “Then wash up. We’re training in ten minutes.”

“ What ?” I croak as he stalks past me .

“Need to work out this energy somehow.” He throws a wicked smile over his shoulder before striding off.

The bath I take is intentionally cold. Even with the frigid temperature, I can still feel his phantom touch on my skin. After dressing and braiding my damp hair, I swing open the door to find Ridge in a fresh set of clothes.

Ridge’s feline smile has my pulse jumping in my neck. “Are you hungry, love?”

Oh gods.

That nickname is going to be the death of me. My heart feels like it’s trying to crawl into his lap. I absentmindedly follow him down the corridor.

We walk in comfortable silence for a moment, rounding the corner before we get to the dining hall. I return to the question I’d asked him before. “What do you feel you’re unworthy of?”

Ridge peers over at me briefly before returning his gaze to the corridor stretched out before us. “The choices we make define us; to others, but even more importantly, to ourselves.” He shrugs, as casual as ever. “I’ve made difficult choices—wrong decisions—that haunt me to this day.” There’s a pause as we cross the threshold to the dining hall. “Ones that make me unworthy of anything worthwhile.”

He splits off, heading for the counter to grab food. I silently follow, contemplating his words.

We finish breakfast and make comfortable idle talk as we head toward the Pass. It’s not quite as cold this morning, but the wind still whips at my braid. “What are we training today?”

He smirks. “You want to release that fire you were so desperate to summon in the hallway?”

My jaw unhinges. “How did you—”

“Your fire enjoys flirting as much as you do, apparently,” he snickers, and I playfully swat at his arm.

Stepping away, my boots crunch on the snow, carrying me toward the barren trees at the edge of the Pass. The emotion from our conversation has my power squirming to be released, thumping under my skin in a constant reminder of its presence.

I let that tingling amplify, let it rip through my veins and escape like it desperately wants to. Breathing deep, I let the power explode from my fingertips, ember flames dancing in my hands.