“No!” I snap, and he pauses in place. “Your body heat is pleasant.”
“Okay,” he agrees softly, and he presses himself even closer to me. I must feel like ice to him, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
His hands start to glide over me. Rubbing warmth back in with an efficient, impersonal touch that is enraging. He reaches my arm, and his palm falters at the ridges of my scarring. He resumes quickly, and says nothing.
“It will be warmer in bed,” he suggests.
“Fine,” I snap.
Somehow we make it to the bed. I end up with my back towards him, as usual. But the way he presses himself close and curls his giant body all around me, is not usual at all.
It’s warm. It’s reheating my chilled body. It’s also something else I can’t name. Something similar to Jamie’s hugs.
What is it with humans and their fondness for pressing their bodies together when it’s not for sex? It is so peculiar. Even though I can’t say I hate it. Despite the fact it is making my heart do strange things.
“Are you alright now?” Jack asks, his lips so close to me that his breath tickles my ear.
I’m no longer freezing, but I’m perversely enjoying this, and I don’t want him to leave.
“Just tired,” I say.
Hopefully, that’s excuse enough for him to stay.
It’s also true. I’m tired to my bones. Even down to my soul. An exhaustion that has nothing to do with sleep.
I’m tired of all the plots. The spinning webs that constantly twist and change. All the games. The planning five moves ahead while trying to guess everyone else’s next ten moves. The never-ending, ceaseless fight of it all.
How nice it would be if it all just stopped.
How wonderful it would be just to lie in someone’s arms and be held like something precious. To know that someone had your back, and you weren’t alone in the fight.
That would be the greatest blessing ever bestowed.
I sigh heavily. Where are all these thoughts coming from? It must be the stress of denying release for so long. Maybe combined with the hypothermia, it has unleashed this despondency.
A yawn takes me by surprise. Apparently, I am sleepy.
“Go to sleep,” Jack says. “I have you.”
He doesn’t. It is a nice sentiment. He isn’t holding me because he is my lover. He doesn’t have my back like a partner. He is nothing more than a pawn. A means to an end. A way for me to escape court and make contact with the right humans.
Whatever reasons he has for agreeing to this arranged marriage, I’m sure they are just as calculated.
But I think I will allow myself to drift off to sleep. I will steal more of his warmth and this unnamed feeling having his arms around me invokes. I will bask in it and pretend.
Pretend that it is something more than it can ever be.
Chapter nine
Jack
Iwake to the sensation of warmth pressed against my chest and the faint scent of jasmine. For a moment, I’m completely disoriented. Then memory comes flooding back in a rush that makes my heart stutter.
Dyfri is still asleep in my arms.
The morning light filtering through the curtains has shifted slightly, telling me we’ve only been dozing for an hour or so. But in that time, Dyfri has somehow managed to turn over and burrow even closer to me, his face pressed against my collarbone, one arm draped across my chest. His breathing is deep and even, more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him.
I carefully move my head back so I can see his face. It feels sneaky, but I can’t resist.
