Her heart pounded in her chest. The night Garren had stumbled upon her had been more terrifying than any night she had faced in countless years. She’d been sure that she wouldn’t be able to make it back in time, that she would change just beforehand and feast on the unsuspecting folk of Sardorf. Haldis had been her savior that night. She was the only reason Oriana had made it back to the forest before it was too late, for Haldis was the only person who knew who Oriana truly was.
That night, Oriana had dragged Garren, as he lay motionless, all the way across the field to Hadis’s door. When she’d burst inside, the old woman had jumped up from her chair like a spooked rabbit. Oriana didn’t blame her; it was minutes until the full moon and there she was flinging open Haldis’s door. “Hurry!” Oriana had yelled. “He’s injured badly. Help me get him upstairs!”
Oriana had taken the brunt of his weight, while Haldis had carried his legs so that they didn’t clop against the steps, causing him more pain or damage. Oriana had just about thrown Garren onto the bed before rushing out the door. She knew she wouldn’t make it, but then Haldis had yelled down from the upstairs window, “Take my horse! Take Keely!”
“But…” Oriana had gasped.
“I know, child, but what is the life of one mare to that of six hundred people?”
Oriana had looked up at Haldis, tears glistening her eyes from taking any more than she already had from Haldis. Why the woman had taken Oriana in as her own was far beyond her thought capabilities, it just showed the true forgiving nature of Haldis, of all who lived in Sardorf.
“Go!” Haldis yelled.
It was all Oriana needed to hear. She sprinted to the stable behind Haldis’s home, jumped onto Keely’s back, and rode like lightning into the Phantom Wood. She had barely made it past the threshold of the forest when the change occurred. Poor Keely–what was left of her–was now buried next to Oriana’s cottage at the old barley farm.
But Sardorf had been spared, and Garren had survived. She had saved him.
Oriana took a deep breath before tentatively knocking on the wooden door in front of her. He granted her access with a low “Come in,” from the other side.
She pulled the door latch, cringing as it squeaked on its hinge while she pushed it open and then turned to close it behind her. As she swiveled back around to face him, she quickly averted her eyes. Garren stood at the window on the far side of the room and looked out at the forest beyond, torso bare, wearing only a thin pair of linen braies that fell to his knees.
“I-I’ve brought you some stew,” she stuttered, silently cursing herself as heat flushed to her cheeks.
He spun, seemingly undeterred at the fact that she was seeing him in such an intimate thing as his underclothes. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen a shirtless man before. It was just that the only time she had since Darragh, was while helping Haldis with an injured or wounded man. And none of them were as…well sculpted as this man was, Garren. The fact that he was perfectly well, no longer bleeding or hovering on the edge of death’s door, changed the intimacy of it. And it had been an exceptionally long time since she had been intimate with anyone.
Far too long.
He took a few steps toward her and she watched as his muscles tightened and moved with each step. He stopped to stand a mere foot away from her, and she looked up to see him smiling down at her. She averted her gaze, looking back down, but quickly realized that the smooth, solid muscles of his chest met her at eye level. She forced her gaze down lower, noticing that his wound was nearly completely healed. Her eyes narrowed.
“Thank you,” he offered, taking the bowl from her grasp. She instantly spun on her heel, gripping the door latch before she could make a fool out of herself any further, but his gruff voice filled the room once again. “Won’t you join me? I’ve a few questions I would like to ask you.”
She stood frozen. She had questions for him as well. It was the reason she had come to his room in the first place. Releasing the door latch, she nodded and sat in the small wooden chair that rested against the wall beside the door. She felt a bit more comfortable being on the opposite side of the room from where Garren took a seat on the stool Haldis used when mixing her poultices.
She watched, awestruck, as he inhaled the bowl of broth and meat in just four gulping bites. Satisfied, he set the bowl aside and relaxed, resting his elbows on the table behind him in a carefree manner. Blast him for being so casual–cocky even, from the knowing smirk plastered upon his full lips. He knew exactly how uncomfortable she felt being here with him dressed as he was.
Her eyes drifted down momentarily to his bare torso and the taut flex of strength from his movements before flitting back up to his face, where she noticed a section of puckered flesh that traveled in a jagged line from his forehead down through his temple and toward his ear. She wondered what had given him that nasty scar. It looked as if someone had attempted to scalp him.
“So,” He gave her a quick wink, that cocky smile still pulling at the corners of his mouth as his voice broke her from her trance. She turned her head to the side, hiding the humiliation that tightened her cheeks. “Haldis says you found me lying just outside of the Phantom Wood.”
“Yes,” she said quickly, clearing her throat and adjusting her position in the wooden chair that suddenly felt far more uncomfortable with him staring at her like that.
“And you brought me here by yourself?” he questioned, raising a brow.
She looked him in the eye. “Yes. I did,” she replied curtly.
His eyes narrowed. “Hmmm,” he grumbled so low she felt it in her bones.
She huffed, crossing her arms atop her chest, more annoyed at the warm feeling his voice coursed through her than the assumption that she couldn’t have possibly brought him here by herself.
“Well, thank you,” he offered, nodding his head toward her, face softening into an appreciative smile. “I think you may have saved my life.”
“Think?” she scoffed. “You were delirious with fever. The poison had turned your skin black and you had collapsed, basically dead to the world already. I did save your life.”
He laughed then, a rich and thunderous sound that had her toes curling. “Well then, Oriana.” His toothy smile was large and genuine. “Thank you for saving my life.”
She was moderately taken aback by his laughter. “You're welcome,” she managed after a short, stunned silence.
She fidgeted with her skirts, smoothing the creases until there were none left. When she looked back up at him, he had leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, head cocked to the side, studying her. His hair had fallen across his face, the light of the setting sun turning it the most extraordinary midnight blue. He brought a hand up to brush the locks away, his bicep flexing at the movement The size of it made her gape slightly. Fuck.
