“Do it. Now.”
The heavy tread of boots drew closer, each thud of leather on stone rattling her ribs. Ella didn’t have time to protest.
He pressed her down into the mattress, his command leaving no room for argument. Furs dropped heavy over her, trapping her in heat and shadow, her body caged against his, as though she were something he meant to shield or smother.
She wished she’d worn more than his oversized shirt.
Pants would have been useful.
The press of his thigh against hers, the breadth of his chest at her back, even the whisper of his arm pinning her close, all of it set her body alight.
The scent of him was everywhere: spiced amber and something rougher, salt-sharp. Sweat. She had never noticed him sweat before, never thought him capable of it, but here it was, threaded through the heat of the furs and the closeness of his skin. She couldn’t tell if it was the strain of hiding her, or the situation itself, but it was raw, human, dizzying.
Ella tried not to squirm, but every point of contact burned with awareness, and gods, her body betrayed her. Heat spilledlow, damp and insistent, a pulse she couldn’t stop. Shame clawed at her throat as sharply as panic.
What if he could tell? What if he could smell it? The Dravaryns were rumored to have senses sharper than any other mortals. Fuck, what if he smelled her arousal and mistook it for consent?
Velvet heat and musk closed around her, and fight or flight tangled in her chest until neither option felt possible. Flight, of course, was no option at all, not with how carefully he’d hidden her and not with his massive frame between her and the door, every inch of him a barricade she could never slip past.
The door swung open.
“Jake?” A woman’s voice. Smooth, controlled, and touched with amusement.
Ella clamped down on her breath and eased the fur aside, peering through the narrow strip left open where Jakobav’s shoulder angled away, just enough for her to glimpse the door. Through that slit of blankets, she studied what she could see of the woman: polished leather boots catching the firelight, the hem of a dark green cloak shifting just beyond Jakobav’s shoulder. As the woman moved farther into the room, Ella caught flashes of her silhouette—dark hair braided into a single rope and the grounded, self-assured stance of a soldier. She ached to shift for a better look, but even the smallest movement risked exposure.
“I was expecting to meet with you tomorrow, Maeren,” Jakobav said. His tone was even, his breaths drawn slow, deliberate, as though he were forcing calm into every syllable.
“And that’s why I never knock,” Maeren replied with a grin audible in her voice. “Far more entertaining to catch you off guard. On the rare occasion anyone can.”
“You didn’t catch me.” Jakobav’s answer landed hard. “No one could mistake your gait. Your footsteps are louder than a soldier twice your size. I heard you in the corridor minutes ago.”
Her smile faltered, only for a breath, before she recovered and took a few steps closer, then stopped. “There’s been another Veil breach. A creature slipped through. We didn’t recognize it, and your skills would’ve helped identify the blood. Savina would’ve been useful too, if she hadn’t been taken out by that fierce little intruder you’re still pretending not to know anything about. And yes, I checked the dungeon. No new prisoners.”
The woman’s brows lifted as her gaze swept over him, widening slightly when she registered how he was positioned on the bed.
“Did I interrupt something? Should I come back later?” The smirk returned, sharper now.
Ella’s pulse slammed in her throat.
What does she think she’s interrupting?
How can Jakobav identify blood?
She could see more of the woman’s face now, and of course she was beautiful. Worse, she was the kind of beautiful that came with strength, with belonging. This was a woman who strode through doors without knocking.
Not half-hidden, half-dressed, and silenced under furs.
Ella hung on every word, but her heartbeat thundered louder than a soldier’s march.
Maeren scoffed. “Don’t give me that glower. We were practically raised together, Jake. I know all your tells. You’re hiding something.”
The faint grind of Jakobav’s teeth reached Ella’s ears.
But Maeren pressed on, undeterred. “The rest of the First Guard is furious. I’ve been smoothing feathers for days, telling the court you’re locked in training for your Claiming. Meanwhile I’m cleaning up wreckage from this mystery guest of yours.”
Ella felt Jakobav bristle.
“Oh, don’t flinch. I noticed. While I’m busy with that, you’ve been conveniently absent. And then you slip off with Soren? No report, no details?” She crossed her arms. “So maybe use those gods-gifted abilities of yours and help me track this thing. Or better yet, dust off that charm you’ve buried under all that brooding and remind your people why they follow you.”
