Page 18

18

NARANUS

T he rain comes fast.

Thick, relentless sheets of cold water crash against the trees, drenching the already treacherous terrain. Thunder rumbles in the distance, a warning that the worst has yet to come. I tighten my hold on Eryss’s wrist, dragging her forward as she stumbles over uneven ground.

She’s struggling to keep up.

I should keep going, push through the exhaustion, push through the pain in my shredded wing and bleeding side, but I catch the way she’s shaking. She hasn’t said a word in the last mile.

That isn’t a good sign.

I grit my teeth, scanning the area. There has to be something, a cave, some kind of cover, anything to get us out of this. The longer we’re exposed, the easier it is for the rogues to track us.

I see it. Half-hidden by the surrounding trees, a small structure stands alone in the woods, dark and silent against the backdrop of rain.

It doesn’t look abandoned.

Not entirely.

My wings twitch instinctively, but the searing pain reminds me of my limits. Useless. They’re useless right now.

I glance at Eryss. She’s barely holding herself together, her skin pale, lips tinged blue. She lifts her gaze to the cabin, and something flickers in her silver eyes, relief.

“Move,” I order, shoving her toward it.

She doesn’t argue.

The wooden door groans under my grip as I push it open. The interior is dimly lit, the remnants of past fires still staining the stone hearth. There’s furniture. A cot shoved into the corner, a table, a few scattered supplies that suggest someone still comes here.

Who the hell lives in a place like this?

Hunters, maybe.

Or fools.

It doesn’t matter. It’s shelter.

Eryss steps past me, running trembling fingers along the wall, her body still shaking violently.

I turn to her, my chest tightening in annoyance. “You’re freezing.”

She scoffs, wrapping her arms around herself. “No shit.”

I ignore her attitude, already moving toward the hearth. There’s wood stacked nearby, a blessing I don’t question. I kneel, dragging my claws over the kindling before sparking the fire to life. Flames crackle instantly, warmth creeping through the room.

Eryss hovers nearby, close enough to steal the heat, but she’s still shivering. Her body is running on nothing but pride at this point.

“Sit,” I command.

She hesitates.

Then, as if finally giving in to her exhaustion, she sinks to the floor in front of the fire, pulling her knees up to her chest.

Her silence is unnatural.

I watch her out of the corner of my eye as I strip out of my ruined tunic, wincing as I check the damage to my wing. The wound is ugly, the muscle shredded where the arrow struck. It won’t heal quickly.

I clench my jaw.

I hate this.

Hate feeling grounded.

Hate the vulnerability of being unable to take to the skies and rip the throats out of the bastards who did this.

The wood creaks as Eryss shifts, dragging herself closer to the fire. Her wet clothes cling to her skin, her hair darkened from the rain, loose curls framing her face.

She looks fragile.

I’ve seen her fight, watched her endure far worse than this. But right now, she looks like she could break.

I don’t like it.

I push to my feet, moving toward her. She doesn’t look up, but I see the way her shoulders tense when I step too close.

She’s waiting for me to push her.

To mock her.

To remind her that she is weak.

I don’t.

Instead, I crouch beside her, watching as she rubs her hands together, her fingers still trembling.

“You’re too cold,” I say, my voice low.

She snorts. “I’ll be fine.”

I exhale sharply, annoyed by her stubbornness. “If you freeze to death, I’ll have no one to torment.”

She finally looks at me, silver eyes glinting in the firelight. “You’d miss me, then?”

I let my lips curl, but there’s no humor behind it. “No. I’d just be bored.”

She huffs, shaking her head, but the tremor in her hands is getting worse.

She won’t last like this.

I don’t give her time to react before I pull her into my lap, dragging her against me, wrapping my arms around her before she can protest.

She stiffens, her whole body going rigid.

“What the hell are you doing?” Her voice catches, her breath uneven.

“Keeping you alive,” I answer, shifting my hold, making sure her icy limbs press against my warmth.

Her hands push against my chest, weakly at first, then more forcefully. “I don’t need your help.”

I let out a low, rumbling growl. “Stop fighting me, little bride.”

She freezes.

I feel her pulse against my skin, rapid, unsteady.

Her breath quivers, but she doesn’t push me away again.

“Fine,” she mutters, voice barely audible. “But if you try anything, I’ll?—”

I cut her off with a quiet, amused sound. “I’m not the one who climbed into whose bed last time.”

She sputters, pulling back slightly to glare at me. “That was?—”

“Desperate?” I supply. “Reckless? Pathetic?”

She grits her teeth. “It was a mistake. An assassination attempt if you forget.”

I watch her, my claws tracing absently over her back, over the bruises still healing along her spine. “You’re still alive. I’d say that’s a success.”

She doesn’t reply.

For a long moment, we sit in silence, the only sound the crackling fire and the storm outside.

Her body gradually stops trembling, the warmth seeping into her skin. She exhales slowly, pressing her forehead against my collarbone.

She shouldn’t be this comfortable with me.

I shouldn’t let her be. Neither of us move.

Neither of us letting go.