Page 13 of The Witch’s Fate (The Lunaterra Chronicles #13)

The soldier stands and watches as I find another spare pillow and a lighter blanket than what’s already in the pile on the floor.

“What is this?” he asks when I offer them.

“For your bed.” Saying the word bed to him feels risky, too. As if I’m attempting to seduce him when I am very much not. The cottage is so small. It has seemed so large around me without my coven, and now it feels like I can’t breathe without touching him.

Even though we have not touched. I am very aware of such details.

“I have…” he begins, then stops and reaches for the blankets. “Thank you. I’m grateful for your hospitality.”

His fingers brush mine as he takes the bedding, and goosebumps cover my body. Shivers run down my spine and instantly my nipples harden. It was only a moment of heat, but so much heat. Are shifters always so hot to the touch, or is it him?

“I could put out the fire,” I offer, with my bottom lip dropped just slightly and unable to be brought back up into place.

He raises one eyebrow, looking into my eyes. “If that would make you more comfortable.”

“I thought you might be more comfortable. If you are too warm?—”

“I will be fine,” he says, before I can finish. “I am well in fact.” His tone is low with his last statement. Low enough to bring my thoughts back to where they should not be, at the memory of him in a towel.

“I’m…glad to hear it.” More heat on my face, as if the cottage might light ablaze just like the logs in the fireplace. “I will… I am tired. I will go to bed now.”

He nods and begins to turn away, but stops and faces me again.

“My name is Ryker.” He holds out a big, calloused hand to me. “I thought you should know that.”

My body freezes. Ryker .

I take his hand, holding my breath for a few seconds at how powerful his grip promises to be, though his touch is gentle—extremely careful.

“Idalis.”

“Idalis,” he repeats. The rain covers most of the softness in his voice, but not all of it. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

I’m not sure if he intends it to be so, but the way he speaks is seductive. With a smile and a blush, I pull my hand away.

The cottage, which seemed like far more room than I would ever need before this evening, gets closer still. Every other night before this, when I lay down in my bed, the main room seemed to be miles long.

It is not miles long anymore. Ryker arranges his bed at the foot of mine, out of the strongest heat from the fireplace, and stretches out as if he’s used to sleeping on the floor. All I can hear is the blood rushing in my ears from my pounding heart.

Even in his human form, he is so obviously strong .

I stare at the ceiling and press my back to the mattress, so I don’t sit up and stare at him.

My eyes stay wide and although sleep begs me to give in, there is no way I possibly could.

My mind races with so many thoughts, many of which are sinful.

But others, more logical and terrifying.

The rain drums and drums on the roof, and I have the sense the drops are coming through and landing on my blankets and my clothes. Each one is a cool prickle of doubt.

I do not trust other beings. My coven died at the hands of other beings because they’d felt it necessary to fight in the war. A wolf shifter—and a soldier, no less—is no less of a danger to me than the trolls who killed my sisters.

What was I thinking, letting him stay for the night? Why did I hand him a stack of blankets and let him lie down at the foot of my bed? He is practically on top of me.

No, he is not. I cannot fathom what the weight of all those muscles would feel like if he were stretched out over me instead of on the floor.

Or perhaps I can fathom it.

I turn over on my side and squeeze my eyes shut tight, trying not to imagine it. He was able to enter, and he sleeps atop an enchanted quilt. I am safe and the moons protect me. I know this and with those thoughts, I let go of my worries.

I force myself to relax and inhale deeply. There’s certainly more energy in the cottage. All he’s doing is lying on his makeshift bed, but power ripples off him.

Power, but not a threat.

Not to me.

I push myself up on one elbow to steal a glance at him. After a few moments, he turns over and stretches before settling down again.

I lower myself back to my pillow, feeling…off. I don’t like that he is left to be uncomfortable. I know he is a powerful wolf shifter and a soldier, but I saw how he shifted on the blanket, clearly trying to find a better position for his body.

Sleep evades me.

The soldier makes no move to get up from the bed or to come to mine. He does not leap up and growl. He lies there, and all he seems to do whenever I check on him is breathe.

After what feels like hours of sleeplessness, I can tell he is not sleeping, either.

No matter how many times I tell myself it is all right, sleep will not come. I spend what feels like hours relaxing the muscles in my body bit by bit and counting up to a hundred and back down to one. My eyes burn from the late hour. I can’t drift off.

I’m awake so long that the storm tapers off to a downpour, and then to a light rain, and then to a shower that comes and goes. I imagine that I will fall asleep before the rain stops completely, but I find myself listening for the next set of drops, listening and listening and still awake.

His breaths are deep and even, but they are too purposeful for him to be truly asleep. I stretch my legs under the covers, trying to work out some of the restlessness.

Stretching does not dispel any of the fidgety feeling, which seems to be everywhere in my body.

Even though we are both pretending to sleep—or at least rest—the tension only thickens in the silence.

It makes the cottage even hotter than the fire, and without the cooling effect of the rain, the temperature becomes too much.

I wave my hand at the fireplace and send a cool breeze through the cottage.

The soldier lets out a gentle sigh of satisfaction. I let one out as well.

It’s still not enough to send me to sleep.

My thoughts circle in my head as the night drags on. I cannot stop thinking of the soldier. I cannot stop listening to his breathing. He is awake. I am awake. We’re both awake.

I fall into a pattern, checking to see if he is awake, then noticing he is, then noticing how impossible it is to sleep.

The walls of the cottage draw closer every time I exhale. At the foot of the bed, Ryker turns over a second time, then a third.

After a long time, I think his breathing has settled into real sleep.

I cannot lie here anymore, so I swing my legs out of the bed and tiptoe silently past him, holding my nightgown up so that it does not accidentally brush against his leg and wake him.

In the kitchen, I stand by the window and smooth my hands over my hair, breathing deep.

It’s still very dark outside. That could be because of the clouds, or just because it’s late, but either way, it soothes me. I cannot see my moon from where I’m standing, but I know she’s in the sky.

Maybe I was not able to summon Ryker’s portal because it has been so long since I cast in the presence of anyone else.

Without thinking, almost as if I am in a dream, I choose a few crystals from the windowsill and set them in a small triangle. It will not be his portal, but if I could summon a portal, I could begin to understand why it did not work the first time.

I gather my thoughts and intentions, then ease power into the group of crystals, calling for a portal to come to me.

No portal appears. Not even the hint of one. A morbid unease settles through me. I cannot remember a time when magic has left my side. And now…it fails to open a portal. When I need it most.

I try twice more. All the while holding my breath.

One more try, and I let my hands fall to my sides, breathing hard, fear and dread cold in my stomach.

He’s trapped here.

I’m trapped here with him. A true fear of this man being trapped here consumes me. Without a portal he would have to travel on foot either north or south, and both directions are unsafe. Why would fate do this? Trap him here? Why would fate take away my magic?

Swallowing thickly I stare outside at the storm and I know it to be the cause.

It must be and it cannot last. With a flick of my fingers I light a candle and raise my hand to the flame, feeling the energy that exists between the heat and my palm.

As the thunder cracks through the sky, a chill settles in the space, and as the storm is quieted, the warmth grows.

It is the storm. There is no doubt that once it’s passed, magic between spaces will be restored. It must be so. My confidence grows as lightning crashes down and the flame of the fire reacts.

Once the storm passes, I am sure the portals will be restored. With a steadying breath, I convince myself of it.

With the heat at my palm, I wonder how long that may be.

What if I just crawled into Ryker’s makeshift bed? What if I warmed myself by his body? Would that solve the problem?

My face sears hot at the thought. Where did that come from? Does he have some hold over me?

I blow out my next breath, straighten up, and cross the cottage so I may try to sleep once more, but his hazel eyes catch me in the dead of night.

He is watching me, wide awake.

I startle backward, my hand flying to my throat. Only after I’ve recovered from a minor heart attack, I speak. “I thought you were asleep,” I gasp. “You do not have to pretend to sleep.”

He looks at me, his eyes somehow catching the last of the light from the fire’s ember. “I didn’t mean to alarm you... I couldn’t sleep.”