He’d fallen asleep with his arms convulsing, trying to pull me closer (not possible). And now hehad this little grumbling snore going on. Which was super endearing coming from a guy usually so schooled,strict,and regimented. So, yeah, I didn’t want to ruin the moment. At least not yet.
Dim moonlight spilled through his bedroom window, casting shadows over the piles of clothes, weapons, and papers sprinkled across his floor.
His pigsty room was even more chaotic than normal. After our horny wall-hump session, Cheriour had tossed more shit around, searching for something to sharpen my poleaxe with.Because,y’know, that took priorityover him resting.
My poleaxe had freshly sharpened blades. So did his knives. And his leather holsters had all gotten a good polish. The room was wrecked. But Cheriour was finally,finallyresting (although he’d nearly passed out before I could convince him to lie down).
Freaking stubborn, macho men.
And nowIcouldn’t sleep.
Cheriour’s room was on a lower level, so it came with more city noise: people talking. Animals screeching, braying, or cock-a-doodle-dooing.
It wasn’t the sounds that kept me awake, though.
I stroked the back of Cheriour’s hand, smoothing my fingers over his rugged skin. Small white scars scattered across his knuckles. His pointer and middle fingers had ugly black spots beneath the nails, and his ring finger had no nail. His thumb was crooked, like it had been broken, but not reset, and had healed at a funky, cock-eyed angle. He had the ugliest freaking hands I’d ever seen.
But I couldn’t stop touching them.
He was, without a doubt, the stinkiest mofo I’d ever shared a bed with.
But I didn’t mind the B.O. musk anymore. It suited him.
How the fuck had this happened?
I traced a scar on his wrist.
My heart kept doing funny things. Not the fluttering it did when I saw a hot guy. No. The organ seemed…heavy.Like it had somehow inflated and was now too big for my chest.
And the sound my pulse made in my ears, like a boiling teakettle…
Wait.
Shit, that wasn’t my heart making those noises.
A sudden, chilling scream rose from the city streets. My blood turned to ice.
A moment ago, the light coming through the window had been dim and gray. Now it morphed into a bright, flickering haze. The faint scent of smoke curled around my nostrils.
Fire.
“Cheriour…” I had to swallow a few times to get my voice working. “Cheriour!”My hand shook as I jiggled his shoulder.
He lazily opened his eyes, took in the murky orange light splashed across the walls, and untangled his limbs from mine.
More shrieks filled the air.
Cheriour said something as he pulled his boots on, but his voice seemed far away. Meanwhile, the yells grew louder and louder and…
“Addie.” Cheriour gave my arm a rough shake. “Put your boots on. Now.” He plucked them off the floor, pressing them to my chest, before he turned and peered out the window.
Outside, a man yelled, “Get the ‘orses out!”
Another man bellowed, “The roof is collapsing! We can’t get to ‘em!”
I envisioned horses swirling in their stalls, whinnying in fear as flames drew closer.
White spots flashed before my eyes. I didn’t realize how much I was swaying until my ass smacked the ground—I’d slid right off the bed.
