Page 58 of Unveil

I turn my head enough to find him leaning against the wooden cot I’m on, his hands tugging his hair. Only his profile is lit by the glow from the cabin’s potbelly stove. He stares into the flames, unseeing, deep bags under his eyes, sunken cheeks, and a five o’clock shadow that’s at least a day long.

When was the last time he slept?

Actually, screw that. I do notcare.

Determined to keep hating him, I shift to get up. The wood groans beneath me, and my muscles protest with it, dragging a whimper from my throat.

Orion lurches up, scrambling to face me.

“Luna?” His deep voice is a hoarse rasp. “You’re… you’re awake. Baby, you’reawake.Thankfuck.”

What looks like relief has him sinking back with athud, raking both hands through his hair and pulling at the roots. If the spiky, haphazard mop is any indication, he’s done it at least a million times.

Annnddd he’s shirtless.

Jesus, like I need that.

I blink, forcing my eyes not to drag over the dark ink on his chest, the birthmark that matches the skull on my leg… and the trail of hair disappearing beneath the band of his boxer briefs.

“Where are your clothes?” I groan, slowly sitting up on my elbows, minding every throbbing bruise.

But the leather jacket slips down, wafting warm air over my chest. Mybarechest.

I peek under the jacket, finding I’m only in panties.

“Where the hell aremyclothes?” I gasp, snatching the jacket up to cover myself.

He doesn’t seem to notice my crisis, his hand pressed over his chest and breath unsteady, like he’s seen a ghost.

“Dadgum, woman. Don’t do that to me again.”

“Do what?” I quirk my brow. “Wake up?”

He huffs, holding up his heavy-duty watch. “You were out for twenty-one hours and forty-six minutes.”

“Aday?” I jolt up, and groan at the aches in my bones, catching the leather jacket before it falls again.

He nods, then winces. “The tranquilizer dart… it was meant for a man. I’ve never tranq’d a woman before.”

“Gee,” I grumble. “So happy to be your first.”

His shoulders droop, features ragged. Is that worry and guilt I see? Good. He deserves it.

“I didn’t think about how you’d already been drugged. Then you got a full tranq dose.” His eyes drag over my body, and his voice cracks. “And you’re so small.”

I try to ignore the devastated remorse on his face and look away. “It’s funny how you wanna marry me so bad that you’re willing to kill me.”

“Fuck, I’m so goddamn sorry,” he rasps, bringing an unwelcome twinge in my chest.

“Apology not accepted.” I cross my arms over the jacket and refuse to look at him, scanning my surroundings. Priority one? Clothes.

My outfit hangs from hooks in the rafters above the toasty cast-iron stove squatting at the back wall. Its rounded belly glows faint orange, filling the cabin with the comforting scent of wood smoke. My bodice and tutu look crisp and dry, but brown from the river. The ballet flats’ satin is frayed and stained beside my garter.

“How do you feel?” Orion rumbles, and I relent, meeting his gaze again.

Those multicolored eyes shine in the light, and that voice—God, his voice. I try not to think about the way he taunted me when I ran away from him. The fact that I was turned onandscared will be all kinds of fucked-up fodder for my therapist. Maria’s been through a lot with me, but she might cut me loose after that little confession.

Yeah right, she loves me.