Page 23 of Artemysia

“Could be dangerous to share a bed with me.” - Riev

R iev stalks into the bedroom a little while after me.

We ignore the sounds of the trio’s lovemaking, though love isn’t the word I’d use to describe the noises breaching the walls.

Ivy’s delighted squeals are joined by low, guttural voices and the rhythmic shifting of furniture.

Everyone is having a good time, so I afford them some leniency.

Why stop them from a little stress relief as we head toward death tomorrow morning?

My attention shifts as Riev begins to undress for the night.

He steps his long, muscled legs out of his pants.

His legs are as tanned as his arms. No tan lines.

When does he have time to run around in shorts…

or nothing at all? Or is his skin just that beautiful tone everywhere?

He strips off his holster and his collared shirt, but leaves his undershirt on.

Everything gets neatly folded and arranged on the side table .

I flip down the quilt and sit on the bed.

Riev tracks me with his gaze. “You know how this is going to go. You have the bed. I’ll take the chair like I did last night.”

“You slept in the chair?” It takes a second for that to register. He stayed with me the entire night?

“Could be dangerous to share a bed with me,” he offers gruffly. “Just leave me alone if you think I’m dreaming,” he mutters as an afterthought.

My hands go to my hips. “Have you attacked others before? On missions, you’ve slept in a tight space like a tent or an outpost, right?”

“It’s happened before, but never like that. Usually I snap out of it and wake up sooner.”

“Do you remember your dreams?”

“It’s always the same one.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t want to say.”

“I could say you owe me, but…” I offer a crooked grin.

He heaves a breath. “Fine. I’m on a killing spree.”

“Syf?”

“It’s unclear. Faceless. Could be Syf, could be human.”

“So you’re fighting for your life. Makes sense why you’d be violent.”

“Maybe. But the nightmare of it all is…that it’s not a bad dream.” His dark lashes lift, and his eyes shine with a strange ferocity. “It’s not a nightmare at all.”

“It’s not?”

The air goes still as his expression darkens like a storm cloud. “I’m…enjoying the killing. I’m having a fucking good time.”

“Oh.” I see why he didn’t want to talk about it in the first place.

What does one say to such a brutal confession?

Even I can’t come up with an understanding reply right away—and I’m good at this kind of thing.

I don’t want to make him feel worse, so I do my best to maintain my impartial expression.

Apparently, I’m unsuccessful, because he studies me and says, “Yeah, so I’ll just sleep in the chair.”

“Riev, it’s just a weird dream. I mean, I dream about food a lot—and one time, I dreamt I carved up Throg and ate him.” True story.

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better because that is fucked up.”

The tension breaks, and when we both burst into laughter, it continues to build like kindling catching fire.

His starts off in a low, rasping chuckle that he tries to suppress.

Mine cackles loudly into the room, and he points a surprised finger at my unbridled laughter and lets himself go.

I never thought about anyone’s laughter before, but his genuine, throaty laugh must mean something to me, because I find myself craving more of it.

Finally, wiping a tear from the corner of my eye, I gesture to the other side of the bed. “Bed’s big enough. I don’t need the entire thing to myself.” I draw back the quilt.

“But…” He eyes my legs. “You’re going to bed in your riding pants?”

“What’s wrong with that? It’s cold.”

“You’re going to make the bed smell like elk.”

“Says the guy who was going to spend the night in the alley when we met. I was gracious enough to offer you half the bed—”

“When I have a choice, I try to be human,” he says wryly, but there’s a hint of vulnerability in his words, as if deep down he thinks of himself as less than human, maybe with all that King Galke forces him to do.

“It’s exhilarating, you know. Your unending insults. Apparently, I stink of elk and barely pass as human.”

“I’m not going to lie to you.” He’s as stoic as ever, but his eyes gleam with brazen intent.

“Fine.” I don’t know what his issue with cleanliness is, but I’m too tired to argue. I unbuckle my leather belt, slide it out of the loops, and drop it on the floor beside the bed.

Riev turns to a small dresser to fold his socks.

Meanwhile, I roll down my pants and kick them away. I have thermals on, but I stall.

When I don’t think Riev is watching, I lift a knee to my nose and sniff. Yes, dammit, my thermals do stink like elk musk, so I shuck them off and toss them aside.

Each sock comes off. Now, I’m wearing only my silk underwear and the blue flannel shirt he found for me earlier, which barely covers my ass.

“I’m naked now,” I joke .

“What the—” He whips his head around. He’s motionless, paused in the middle of rolling his belt into a neat coil. The open-mouthed look on his face is totally worth it. He glances from me, down my bare legs, to the pile of clothes around me, clearly disapproving.

“Why would you look?” I’m enjoying the utter disdain on his face.

Since he’s been answering all my questions tonight, I decide to press my luck.

“The day before our mission, who were you visiting at the cemetery?” I’m proud that I’m so cool and casual about it, but I guess it comes out overeager and greedy anyway, because he takes one look at my face, bares his teeth in an exaggerated snarl, and turns away.

“No one,” he grunts, barely audible.

“Who were the flowers for?” I probe.

“None of your business.”

“I’ll never stop asking.”

“Oh, for the love of—very well, then.” He sighs and lowers himself onto a corner of the bed.

“Before a mission, I place flowers on a grave for the woman who took me in when I was a baby until I was six. Marije. She’s buried in Riverheart, and I can’t always get there.

So wherever I’m on the road, I buy flowers and leave them on a random headstone in her honor.

“Marije,” I echo softly. “That’s really sweet of you.”

“I don’t like where this is going. It’s exactly what I don’t want you to think.”

“You care. It’s okay to care.”

“It’s a tradition I made up. For good luck before a mission. I don’t even remember her that well.”

“But she raised you—”

“Go to sleep,” he grumbles. “End of sharing.”

He leaves me wondering if anyone else finds his surliness as hilarious as I do. I try to hide my grin, but it spreads across my face until it twitches into laughter.

He mutters to himself, the mattress sinking as he reclines.

I ease into the sheets and lie sideways on my good shoulder, pulling the covers over my head as I sink into the pillows.

“Goodnight, Riev.”

I hear him click the knob of the gas-lit sconce, and darkness falls, with only the moonlight from one small window and the fireplace illuminating the room.

Under the quilt, the cold cotton bedding is soft against my skin. I usually sleep in layers. It’s colder onthis side of the valley without the mountains blocking the night winds. A shiver runs through me despite the decent fire Riev started in the hearth.

A rough voice comes from the dark. “Stop shaking the bed with your shivering. I’d offer to keep you warm, but I already know your stubborn answer.”

“If only you’d let me sleep in my outdoor clothes. Plus, I wanted a hot bath earlier, but everyone was hungry.”

“I’m not sleeping anytime soon either. You don’t know how much effort it’s taking not to go collect and fold every single article of clothing you flung on the floor while you undressed like a whirlwind.”

“Hmph.”

“And…how much effort it’s taking not to think about you undressing in front of me like that,” he adds under his breath, his voice suddenly husky and hoarse.

My eyes flick open in the dark.

His words spike a hot, thrilling flush across my chest. “Didn’t know you were watching. Well, look at the lose-lose situation you created.”

“Let me warm you up, and we both win. Your strategic mind can’t turn that down. I promise to keep my hands to myself.”

Oh, hell . I want to, but I shouldn’t. It’s tempting to accept his offer, but I can’t break my own rules.

No attachment, no heartbreak.

I set rules to protect myself. To keep me focused. They’ve helped me survive.

I’m torn. This isn’t life or death. Though, if I freeze to death…

Nothing about this assignment is by the book, and I huff a breath into my hands. I hate the cold. And I have to admit, I certainly don’t hate the thought of his hot body against mine.

“Oh, alright.” I’m already on my side, so I wriggle back into him.

He swears. “You’re an ice block.” He wraps an arm over me and curls around my ribs from behind, being gentle with my left shoulder. “Good now?”

“Yes,” I say stiffly. And it is. Immediately enveloped in his warmth, I feel his hot breath on the shell of my ear. The different cords of muscle in his torso tense and relax as he settles against me.

He sighs into the darkness. “I miss Owlfred.”

I sputter and laugh. “What?”

“He fucking ate berries out of my hand after you left.”

“He didn’t bite you?”

“No.”

“Owlfred bites everyone.”

Riev is silent for a moment. “Why would you tell me to feed him, then?”

I chuckle darkly under my breath.

“If he hadn’t interrupted us, would we have slept together?” he asks plainly.

My back goes rigid, and I answer too quickly. “Absolutely not.”

“What did you want to happen then? That night. I recall you were begging me to touch you.”

“Nothing. I don’t remember it that way! Kissing only.” My words come out too fast, too high. I’m flustered, and suddenly I’m no longer cold, but too warm.

“Is kissing the only thing you’ve done?”

“No. Why would you assume that?”

“You’ve been with other men before?”

“Sure.”

“Many?”

“Well, let’s see…there was Thom, Kiran, and Galliver—”