Page 19

19

ERYSS

S leep comes easily.

I don't expect it to. My body is a bruised wreck, aching with exhaustion, but I expect my mind to resist, to keep me awake, to keep the tension in my limbs locked tight.

But Naranus is warm.

The heat of him seeps into my bones, steady and unyielding, keeping the cold from taking root in the hollows of my skin. The steady rhythm of his breathing grounds me, his arms around me an anchor I shouldn't accept.

But I do.

I hate that I do.

I drift before I can fight it, my fingers curled slightly against his chest, his heartbeat deep and slow beneath my palm.

The fire has burned low by the time I wake.

I shift slightly, blinking past the dim, flickering glow, adjusting to the thick silence of the room. My head is clearer now, my body no longer wracked with shivers.

I realize that I’m still in his arms.

Still tucked against the broad plane of his chest, still wrapped in the heat of his body like a protective cocoon.

I go still, listening to his breath. It’s even, deep, slow.

He’s asleep.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen him sleep before.

Naranus exists in perpetual control, a beast that never lets his guard down, that watches, waits, anticipates the next threat before it comes.

Yet here he is. Vulnerable. Exposed.

I could kill him.

The thought slithers through me like an old whisper, the mission buried in the back of my mind rearing its head.

This is the moment.

The perfect moment.

End him.

I carefully pull my arm back, fingers hovering just inches from his throat, from the vulnerable column of his neck where a single press would mean his end. He’s already injured, I don’t need the enchanted dagger to end him.

He wouldn't even feel it.

But I don’t move.

My fingers curl away instead of closing in. My breath hitches, my stomach twisting as I force myself to think.

This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.

I shouldn’t hesitate.

I shouldn’t be questioning this.

But his warmth lingers on my skin. His body bleeds protection even in sleep, even after everything, even after he’s thrown me to the wolves and forced me into the fire.

He’s saved me.

Over and over again.

My chest tightens, hard and unbearable.

Why? Why does he do this?

He speaks to me with sharp-edged cruelty, taunting and mocking, reminding me of my place beneath him. But then he turns around and catches me before I fall. Holds me close when I am barely holding on myself.

Why is he like this?

I exhale sharply, shaking my head. I can’t get lost in this. I won’t.

Instead, I shift carefully, pulling away without waking him, ignoring the way my body misses the warmth the second it’s gone.

I sit up, rubbing at my arms, glancing around the cabin for the first time with clear eyes.

Something isn’t right.

I didn’t pay attention last night. I was too cold, too exhausted, too caught up in the way my body screamed for relief. But now that I’m awake, now that I see it, this place doesn’t feel abandoned.

The air is still. Too still. Like something is watching.

I stand slowly, moving carefully through the cabin, my fingers dragging along the rough wooden shelves, the scattered objects. Hunting knives, dried herbs. Old bowls still dusted with remnants of whatever was eaten last.

I see something, a notebook.

Tucked deep in the corner, almost hidden beneath a pile of old cloth. I frown, reaching for it, my fingers trembling slightly as I flip open the cover.

Purna script.

My stomach drops.

I flip through the pages, my breath shallow, sharp. The writing is familiar, the looping, elegant script the same form I was raised reading.

A Purna lived here.

Maybe still does.

Shit.

I flip another page, my pulse pounding in my ears. Spells. Incantations. Personal thoughts scrawled along the margins. This wasn’t left behind by accident.

We need to leave.

I snap the book shut, shoving it back where I found it. My hands are cold again, and not from the rain.

Magic lingers here.

Something doesn’t feel right.

I turn back toward Naranus, already reaching to wake him.

Suddenly, I hear it.

Movement.

Outside.

My blood runs ice cold.

I freeze, my muscles locking tight as I strain my ears. The wind howls through the trees, but beneath it, beneath the storm still raging beyond, I hear it.

Footsteps.

Slow. Deliberate.

Circling.

Hunting.

I swallow hard, my fingers tightening at my sides.

Perhaps it’s too late to run away. Whoever’s out there, knows we’re in here.