“It doesn’t matter,” I said gruffly, grabbing a towel to dry myself off.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she replied, planting her hands on her hips. “You can share my room tonight.”
I stared at her, stunned.
“It’s the only option,” she insisted, her voice softening. “I trust you, Kael.”
Her words hit me like a blow. I wanted to refuse, to push her away again. But the look in her eyes—so warm, so steady—left me defenseless.
“Alright,” I murmured.
Her room was smaller than mine, the walls lined with shelves of books and potion bottles. The bed was modest but inviting, draped in a thick woolen blanket.
“I’m sorry, I don’t have any extra bed clothes you can use, you’ll have to make do with these,” Seranni said, waving at the rumpled bed clothes.
“I’m sorry for disturbing your rest,” I said, walking over to the chair that was placed before her fireplace. It would be cramped, but it would only be for the night. Tomorrow, I would repair the roof or sleep in the kitchen.
Seranni lay down, cocooning herself in the woolen blankets. Her eyes were already heavy with sleep, and she looked at me as I stood stock still in the middle of the room.
“Well, get in, Kael.”
I stared at her, unable to believe my ears. When I said nothing in response, Seranni clicked her teeth in exasperation.
“There’s nowhere else to sleep, Kael. Half the tower’s fallen down around our ears. Just bunk up for tonight and we can sort it all out tomorrow.”
I shook my head, still unable to say a word.
She raised her head to look at me, and her eyes softened. “It’s alright, really. I don’t mind.” Suddenly, she grinned, and plonked a pillow in the middle of the bed. “See, I’ll even put this pillow in between us so you can preserve your modesty.”
Despite myself, I chuckled. Then I sighed, taking a step closer. “I just don’t want…”
To inconvenience you. To hurt you. To let my dragon get the better of me and maul you in your sleep.
I shrugged, and finally, Seranni sat up in bed to look at me seriously. “Look, Kael, you’re going to make me feel bad if you stand there all night. I trust you. I know you won’t hurt me. And I promise I won’t hurt you. We both need to sleep. So,” she patted the bed again, “come on.”
Reluctantly, I made my way over to the bed. Gingerly, I got under the blankets, lying on my side and keeping Seranni’s pillow between us like a makeshift modesty wall. Seranni turned toward the wall with a mumbled goodnight, keeping her back to me.
I thought I wouldn’t be able to sleep, but before I knew it, I succumbed to slumber.
I woke up to a puff of warm air against my neck, and a slim hand on my chest. I had turned away from Seranni last night to give her privacy, but this morning, she was wrapped around me. The pillow that had been a wall between us lay forgotten in a lump at our feet. Looking for warmth in the night, Seranni had twined her legs between mine, and her skirts had ridden up with the motion, exposing her slender, strong legs.
The sight of that smooth expanse of skin was nearly too much for the dragon within me, who wanted to know if it would as velvety soft to the touch as it seemed. With an effort, I dragged my gaze away, only to realize that I had fallen into more perilous danger.
Seranni’s dress had shifted in her sleep, and her bodice hung dangerously low on her breasts. My throat went dry at the shadow of darker skin I could just glimpse near the edge of her bodice. Were those her nipples, just peeking out of the top—?
I wouldn’t touch—I would just pull her top up so I couldn’t see anymore, that was all—I wouldn’ttouch—
The sight of one claw against the creamy skin of her breasts was enough to jolt me from my all-consuming hunger. I had lostcontrol of myself—the fact that I had partly transformed without even realizing it was proof of that. I wouldn’t hurt Seranni this way.
I’m aman, not a beast.
So, despite the beast that wanted totakeand consume and ravish—I shuffled out of bed, and fled into the snowy morning.
When I returned to the tower with an armful of firewood, the weight of the day already heavy on my shoulders, I saw her sitting at the kitchen table. The soft glow of candlelight reflected in her dark eyes, which looked pensive as she cradled a steaming cup of tea. Her curls fell in disarray around her face, and her slender fingers tightened around the mug when she noticed me step inside.
“Your whole bedroom is gone,” she said by way of greeting, her voice carrying a note of melancholy as if she bore the blame for the storm. “I tried to save what I could, but…” She trailed off with a shake of her head. “I guess we’ll be sharing a bedroom until summer.”
I stood there for a moment, holding the firewood, unsure of what to say. Sharing her space again—after last night—felt like an exquisite form of torture. “Thank you for saving what you could,” I muttered, setting the wood by the hearth.
