“It’s my instinct,” he said.
I felt his smile against my hair.
Right. I’d spent my whole life thinking the fae were distorted reflections of humanity, but they were more beast than man.
“You smell good,” he purred. “Like fear and anger, both burning so brightly I can taste them.”
“You smell like blood.”
“Seems fitting.”
“Only if your goal is to warn everyone to stay far away.”
“You’d be surprised how many come closer.”
His lips hovered near my ear, his words vibrating through my locked muscles. When his hand flexed against my waist, I shivered. Motionless, he held me in the furnace of his body while irritation and unwanted heat tangled together.
Minutes passed in tense silence. My breathing steadied, matching his rhythm.
His palm lifted to my cheek. “Close your eyes.”
I sucked in a harsh breath. “Why?”
“Because you need rest.” His voice rumbled through me. “You’ll collapse on your feet if you don’t.”
“Not with you.”
“Even monsters sleep.”
No. I mustn’t.
Falling asleep would mean giving over every defense, but gods, I could barely keep my eyes open. A bone-deep weariness made my eyelids feel like lead weights. When was the last time I’d slept? Not since before the almost-execution.
I couldn’t be unconscious around him, but the warmth melted through my defenses like honey. My head grew heavy against his shoulder. Just for a moment. Only to stop shivering.
His thumb touched my temple. “Sleep.”
My lashes fluttered. I tried to summon the terror of the throne room, anything to keep me awake.
Fight—
Darkness dragged me under.
15
WILD THINGS
I slipped in and out of sleep, tormented by the image of my sister’s head falling underwater. I saw her pale body, washed up on the street, her eyes open and vacant.Too late, Vaeris’s voice echoed.I couldn’t save her.
I woke on a bed of moss, my nose stinging from tears I didn’t remember shedding. The cloak was tucked around me like a blanket—when had he done that?
I sat up, rubbing my face.
A low fire crackled, banked beneath a ring of stones. Skewered over the flame were several pheasants. Plucked, gutted, and roasting on a spit.
I licked my lips.
Kairos crouched beside the firepit, his expression pinched as though he’d slept poorly. He tested the heat with his fingers before handing me a skewer.
