Page 64 of Unveil

“Okay, I see your point about running being reckless,” I concede, yelling over the wind.

He hoists me up, pressing my head against his neck. “Gotta make it quick. Don’t wanna be out here for long.”

He holds me so tightly, I don’t even bounce as he carries me down the porch steps, and I can’t see where we’re going with his jacket blocking my view. After several steps, he gently sets me down, keeping the jacket over my head as he opens another door.

My eyes widen at the pitch-black space inside. “Here?”

“It’s either this or a hole in the ground!” He yells over the wind and uses his knee to keep the door open as he hands me the roll of toilet paper. “You gonna have a conniption, city girl, or suck it up?”

I can’t even argue the “city girl” on this one.

“I’ll be fine,” I grumble and climb in.

He goes to close the door, but pauses. “I’ll be right here, but if you hear somebody calling your name, don’t come out.”

I pause. “What if you’re the one calling my name?”

He shakes his head. “I won’t. Not your real name, anyway. First rule if you’re in the deep woods: If you hear someone call your name and there ain’t no one around, then no, you didn’t. Don’t answer.”

I roll my eyes. “Sounds superstitious.”

“It is,” he says, shrugging. “Until it isn’t.”

He closes the door, leaving me bewildered in what’s essentially a wooden closet. I wait for my eyes to adjust, and lightning flashes in the cracks to show a hole to hover over. He was right though. Any Mardi Gras or Saints’ game port-a-potty is much worse.

I shrug, do my business, then open the door, hanging onto it so I don’t fly away as I close it. Orion catches me as a strong gust makes me fall, wrapping his arms around my waist like we’re in a pas de deux. He mutters a curse then pulls me against him, murmuring in my hair.

“Careful now.”

Rain falls around us as I look up at him, clutching his neck. I swallow.

Butterflies, butterflies, so many butterflies, dammit.

Even in the dim light, I see his swallow trail down his throat, the water sluicing over his hard, bare chest. But he doesn’t give me time to appreciate him as he picks me up again and carries me with the jacket over me.

Back inside, he sets me on the cot and fluffs the pillow. Just the thought of laying my head down has me exhausted. I haven’t taken my medicine in four days, so normally I’d expect to be wired by now.

“I guess being drugged into sleep can really take it out of a girl,” I mutter.

Orion winces, and I watch as he goes about tidying up our plates, washing them with water from outside.

“We’ll leave as soon as the rain stops and you can put weight on your ankle,” he sighs, hanging his jacket on a rafter hook like it’s a million pounds. “Now we get some rest.”

Damn, he looks worn out, even wavering on his feet.

I watch him in silence as I take one of the blankets from my footrest and spread it over me. It’s nice, actually, soft and lightly smelling like firewood smoke.

Orion stokes the fire tentatively, jolting back when it pops, like he’s afraid it’ll reach out and grab him. Strange. This guy went toe-to-toe with my father—who’smuchscarier than fire—and didn’t even flinch, yet something as harmless as embers makes him jump.

Before I can ask or tease him about it, he sets the poker aside and pulls down his crossbow from an exposed beam. Then he heads over, shoulders sagging as he pulls back the blanket, until I throw out my hand.

“What’re you doing?”

His brow furrows. “Sleeping?”

“Not in this bed you’re not. You’ll take the floor.”

He growls, “I’m not sleeping anywhere but beside my bride.”