Right.Her arms were mostly clean, but better safe than sorry and caught.
By the time she reached the water’s edge, Damien had already stripped and stepped in. As he waded around, his muscles shifted with the current. She tried to keep her breathing steady as she wondered if he knew the effect he had on her . . . or if he cared.
Damn it.She was staring again.
Not wanting to be caught ogling again, she tore her gaze away, yanking off her clothes and ran in. She yelped as cold water splashed against her legs and belly, shocking her to her very core. The river was outright freezing, like they were in the grips of winter itself. In only a few short gasps of breath, her fingers had turned to small blocks of ice against her breasts.
Damien spun around, his magic spreading outward like rays of black sunlight. “Get behind me,” he commanded, his voice a near growl.
Well, this is embarrassing.Sheepishly, she admitted, “The water’s really cold.”
Silence.
And for a split second, she almost wished there had been an enemy; at least then she wouldn’t have to face the fact that she’d startled him over something as trivial as cold water.
“You can’t be serious . . .” he muttered, though his voice trailed off as his eyes landed on her.
Heat bloomed across her skin; only one person had ever seen her naked before. To her surprise, his gaze didn’t linger, didn’t even peek at her barely covered unmentionables. Like a perfect gentleman, he turned away, and she nearly pouted in response.
The heat between her legs demanded attention, so she dove under the water, trying to smother the feeling;holy smokes—cold!Luna surfaced and her teeth clacked together as every muscle in her body tensed. Quickly, she scrubbed, dunked her head, and dashed out. Still dripping, she yanked on her clothes, which clung to her, damp and uncomfortable, but it was better than freezing.
Somehow, Damien was already dressed, lying in the grass. Luna huffed, mildly disappointed that she’d missed the view. “Comfy?”
He didn’t open his eyes. “This is as close to a vacation as I’ve gotten in years.”
“You know, now that you mention it . . .” She dropped beside him. “Nothing is as relaxing as being hunted by people who can suppress magic and want us to serve them.”
He cracked an eye. “Are you saying you’d like to get back to riding?”
“Skies above, no.”
Damien chuckled, glancing towards Barley who was grazing by the trees while Pickle dozed nearby. “Normally I’d make a fire about now,” he said, his gaze returning to her, “but if anyone is close, it’d lead them directly to us. We’re pretty far away from the Grythorn palace, but we’re still not safe yet.”
His words should’ve brought relief, but all she could think about was how much she missed home. Even after all the lies, she still loved her family; not knowing if they were okay was its own kind of torture. She hoped they weren’t being punished for her choices.
Though she hadn’t been harmed at the ball, witnessing death changed something in her: Diera’s lifeless body, Venita’s headless corpse—those images would never leave her.
“All I ever wanted was to be normal, but now . . . I don’t even know who I am, let alone what normal for me actually is.”
His expression softened, the subtle shift making her self-conscious. However, he offered nothing but reassurance in his reply. “There’s no rush to figure out what you want in life. Once we get to safety, you’ll have all the time in the world.”
He was right. Her existential life crisis could wait.
She nodded her head and closed her eyes. Accustomed to the silence of her room, the chirping crickets and other creatures calling and rustling in the brush kept her awake. It didn’t help that the forest floor was cold and nothing like the comfort of her warm, luxurious bed. But eventually, sleep claimed her.
She was back in the ballroom, this time dancing in Damien’s arms. As the tempo slowed, his eyes found hers, and there was such tenderness in his gaze that she felt herself dissolve into it. He leaned in, pressing his full lips to hers in a kiss that was gentle, sweet—everything she had ever wished for.
Then he changed, his body morphing into Clyde. “You’re so stupid,” he jeered. “The whole lot of you are weak and pathetic. I’ll be glad when the king kills every unicorn.”
She shook her head, begging him to stop—but he didn’t. She tried to scream, only to learn her lips were sealed, as if someone had taken string and sewn them shut. Panic rose and she clawed at her mouth, desperate to speak, to fight.
A sharp pinch to her arm snapped her awake. Above her, a large muscular figure loomed, his hand covering her mouth, muffling her cries. She thrashed, swinging and kicking until—
“Shhh.”
Familiar warm baritone notes threaded through the dark. “You’re having a bad dream, but it’s over now. You’re safe with me.”
She stilled, and after a moment, Damien removed his hand from her mouth. “You good?”
