“Fuck,” he whispered, wrecked. “Ella.”
Her stomach flipped, and she struggled to breathe.
For several suspended seconds, neither of them moved. The space between them felt stretched thin, humming with everything his touch had ignited. A tingling sensation still lingered on her skin where his hand had been, a phantom imprint that refused to fade, and the shock of it held her frozen.
Then his shoulders locked, the soldier settling back into place.
He turned away from her with a quick, controlled movement, rolling onto his side as though she had burned him.
Which, in truth, she might have.
The heat of his body withdrew at once, leaving her bare skin exposed to the icy air. The sudden cold hit like a blade. Her magic retreated with it, draining fast, leaving her muscles trembling around the absence.
The shivering began quietly, almost imperceptible at first, a tremor in her legs that spread to her arms until her whole body shook, teeth chattering as her limbs went rigid against the chill.
Jakobav’s head turned, his body shifted, and with a low exhale, he reached for her. He didn’t speak or ask, simply drew her toward him. Her body curled instinctively into his, dwarfed by the breadth of him, and the fit was too perfect to be anything but maddening. She should pull away, should protest, but she was frozen through, bone-deep tired, and the heat of him felt like salvation.
His chest was unyielding behind her, the planes of his body hard as stone. His arm settled firmly around her middle, strong but careful. She tried not to notice the stillness inside her, the strange calm, how safe she felt in the shelter of his hold.
“I understand the concept of huddling for warmth,” she muttered, her voice rough, “but I don’t think I’m wearing enough for this to count.”
Behind her, Jakobav let out a low, amused sound. “Maybe I’m wearing too much?”
Ella’s eyes flew open, her thoughts tangling into chaos. Was he teasing? Was he offering? Or was she losing her mind for even wondering?
Before she could combust, Jakobav shifted, pulling off his outermost layer and handing it to her without a word.
Then he reached into one of the packs and drew out a pair of pants. He didn’t look at her as he passed them over, only said, “Might be Maeren’s.”
Gods, please let them be Maeren’s. Anyone’s but Savina’s. She had already taken her out of commission for days; she didn’t need to steal her pants too.
She muttered something incoherent as she tugged them on with a huff. They were slightly too large, and smelled faintly of leather and smoke.
Jakobav lay back down without another word, his arm returning to her waist and hauling her more firmly against him. She sucked in a breath as the hard length of him pressed against her lower back, hot and insistent even through the fabric.
She told herself it was nothing, a reflex, an accident of proximity, but her flesh refused to believe the lie. Every muscle in her frame went taut, awareness sparking everywhere his body touched hers.
He didn’t shift away; if anything, his grip tightened. And gods help her, she didn’t move either.
She knew she didn’t get a single moment of true sleep, though she had pretended to. Dawn hovered close, perhaps an hour, perhaps minutes away. She only knew she had to steady herself before morning light revealed everything they hadn’t dared to name in the dark. The light would be here soon, and with it, the truth.
20
BLOOD BETWEEN REALMS
She had survived the night, and as the sun crested the ridge in a slow bloom of gold, the truth seemed to rise with it—certain and inescapable.
Ella had lost track of how many times she had tried and failed to summon her fire over the past week, yet she felt with unshakable certainty that it was no coincidence her power had flared last night. Not when the mortal realm threatened to split at the seams. Something was stirring, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that an older presence had been peeking through the cracks, watching her.
She reminded herself that paranoia was not weakness. It was something she could harness, turning awareness into preparation.
She pushed herself upright with care, her muscles still stiff from the night before. Her body had not forgotten, but the new day demanded her focus, and she needed to stay alert.
The half of the bedroll where Jakobav had been beside her was now empty. She’d felt him untangle his arm from around her shortly before dawn, his warmth long gone.
She looked around and found him standing near the horses at the far side of camp. She watched him check the tack and reins with quiet focus, then move down the line, brushing a hand along a dark flank before offering each horse its feed. Frost steamed faintly from their coats in the cold morning light.
The others still slept, scattered in loose circles around the fire, their weapons lying close at hand, their rest uneasy but unbroken.
