He stopped in front of me, and I instinctively shifted back. But he was faster. His gloved hand slid behind my head, and he tugged me forward. My breath hitched as our faces stopped inches apart. His warmth flooded through me like fire against the cold rain, drops sliding from his brow onto my cheek.
“Do your ears hurt?”
My eyes widened a fraction, surprised that he’d chosen to ask something like that first of all the questions he could ask me.
He didn’t wait for my answer. His other hand brushed my hair aside and touched my right ear, bringing the finger to his face. His jaw tightened.
Without a word, he bent and swept me off the ground. I gasped. “You can’t—the path is too slippery—”
But he didn’t stop nor pay me any attention. His body was heat and muscle and unwavering focus, the world tilting as he carried me effortlessly over jagged and uneven stones.
He figured he didn’t need a light with the way he walked like he knew every inch of this place. So I sighed, my body surrendering to thesafetyof his arms, exhaustion pressing down hard. At least he was safer than any creature residing within these rocks. My head rested against his chest.
His heartbeat was surprisingly slow, beating so faintly I could hardly feel it pulse against my cheek
Dum…dum…dum…dum…
Far too slow.
But he was warm.
So damn warm.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
SANORA
“What the hell was that?” I asked, my voice still hoarse, as Thrax stepped out of the kitchen. He moved into the living room where I sat curled up on the couch, wrapped in a thick blanket, legs tucked to my chest, back pressed to the headrest like I was trying to disappear into it.
He crossed the room and handed me a steaming mug. I unwrapped myself enough to take it. The rich, full-bodied scent of Assam black tea with cardamom hit me first, hugging my lungs and warming my throat on the way down. He must've made a rough pick from the numerous I stacked in the cabinet. The cup was heavy, the ceramic warmed by the heat of the drink. I brought it to my lips and took a sip, tasting exactly how it smelled—strong and slightly spicy.
We’d both changed into dry clothes, though where I still felt the aftershocks of the cold in my bones, Thrax moved like he had hell riding under his skin.
His gaze flicked to my neck again—the third time since he’d called me downstairs. When I’d first come down, he’d immediately pushed my hair behind both ears to check if the bleeding had stopped. His fingers had lingered longer than necessary with those dark eyes roaming all over my face and neck. Maybe he didn’t realise, but I did. And I didn’t know why. I took another sip of the tea.
“I have no idea,” he finally said, lowering himself onto the couch opposite mine.
I let the cup rest on my knees, hands cradling it like an egg and revelling in its warmth. “What do you mean?”
He leaned back, arms folding across his chest. The brown sweatshirt he’d changed into clung to the breadth of his shoulders. His white sweatpants were loose, but nothing about him looked relaxed. His dark hair fell in haphazard waves around his face, making him look dangerously beautiful. “It’s my first time seeing it.”
“You don’t know what it’s called?”
He cocked his head slightly, tapping a forefinger to his temple. “Isn’t that what ‘I have no idea’ is supposed to mean?”
I huffed and brought the cup to my lips again, eyeing him over the rim. “How old are you?”
He sighed, shifting the hair over his eyes. “Tomorrow.”
“Oh, come on. Let me off today. I almost died, you know.”
“You ventured into the mouth of death willingly, no?”
“No,” I snapped, scowling into my tea. “It was being dramatic at my window, screaming and taunting me with light. It wouldn’t let me sleep. I had to check what it was.”
“Someone with a sense of danger would’ve pulled their curtains and gone back to bed. It was obvious it was luring you out.”
“I thought we’d already established I lack that sense.”
