Page 67 of Blackheart

“With me.”

My shoulders went rigid. “I don’t want you to share with me if that’s not what you want?—”

He shushed me, the evidence of alcohol flashing in his glassy eyes. “You don’t know what I want,” he said quietly.

“What do you want?” My words were so quiet that I wasn’t sure if I’d actually said them out loud.

He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, shaking his head. “I want you to get in bed. We have a long day tomorrow.”

The hourwasbecoming late, and I was too tired to argue any further. I had already embarrassed myself enough.

I crawled back into bed, scooting all the way back to my spot. Just as I closed my eyes, Riven eased into bed behind me, his warmth so close that the hairs on the back of my neck stood. I squeezed my eyes tighter.

What if I pressed into him? Would he want that?

No. He’d tried to sleep on the fucking floor. He was only in the bed because I’d said something.

I woke early to frosted light shining on my face. I snuggled into my blanket.

As I lay on my side, I stretched my arms down, back arching until a hand gripped my waist, tugging me backward.

I inhaled sharply, snapping my eyes open.

His soft snores were steady. I stayed deathly still. The least awkward way out of this situation was to pretend to be asleep, and when he woke, he could break contact and we’d go on about our day like it never happened.

I closed my eyes, doing such a great job at pretending to sleep that I actually dozed off, secured in Riven’s embrace.

When I woke again, he was dressed and aggravated. I rubbed my eyes, groggily sitting up.

“We’ll be staying another night,” he groaned.

Well, good morning to him, too.

Riven’s jaw was tense as he stared past me out the window.

The snow had piled up overnight to the point that the door downstairs would be stuck. We were trapped in until it could be cleared away.

With impeccably horrible timing, the bard's raking voice burst through the stillness, singing from just outside our door.

Steam practically rolled out of Riven’s ears as he whipped his head toward the sound, knuckles paling.

The bard hit a horrendously high note, sending Riven reeling and snatching his pack up. “I’ve changed my mind. We will not be staying.”

We needed to leave anyway; our time was limited. I enjoyed my last moment of comfort in bed for the foreseeable future, then silently gathered my things.

It was disappointing to leave, even if it was for the best. Under those sheets with the fire going, I truly slept for the first time in forever. I hadn’t woken up on a piss-soaked platform hanging in the air, or in a twisted Warlock’s manor.

I had woken up next to Riven. Maybe this priceless feeling was the reason Luna had never charged him.

He crouched on the bed, propping the window open. Then, one by one, he tossed our bags outside onto the ground. With eachplunk, I winced. Soon that would be my body hitting the ground.

Riven hopped down with ease, landing firmly on his feet. He wore only his leathers and a bow strapped to his back. How the cold didn’t bother him enough to wear a cloak, I wasn’t sure.

I was fully dressed with Singer on one hip and the orb on the other.

Riven waited below, squinting as the sun shone in his eyes.

My stomach churned. It hadn’t looked so bad when Riven did it, but the last person I’d seen jump from a window still haunted me. She was so young, and her baby would never remember?—