When I focused enough to listen, I heard waves. Not the soft, rolling kind—these were hard, relentless, crashing against something solid.
I closed my eyes again and pressed a hand to my stomach. The nausea was gone, replaced by a hollow ache. Hunger. My body felt wrong. Heavy. Weak. As if it no longer quite belonged to me.
God. He had nearly frozen me to death in that stone cell.
I’d felt myself slipping away—the hunger fading first, replaced by a creeping, numbing cold. And then my thoughts had turned to my family. All the people I loved. That had been the end of it.
A tear slipped free and ran into my hairline. Then another.
The door opened.
There was a pause.
It closed again.
Footsteps followed—soft, measured—as they crossed the room. I kept my eyes shut.
He wouldn’t see my weakness.
“I know you’re awake,” he said, as the mattress dipped beside me.
My mouth suddenly watered, and I inhaled the unmistakable aroma of food. Reluctantly, I opened my eyes.
There was no attempt at charm this time. No mask. His eyes were cold, his expression fixed—stoic, immovable.
“Can you sit up?”
I nodded, even though I wasn’t sure.
I tried to lift my head from the pillow, but my body felt leaden, unresponsive. Weak.
He sighed and set the bowl down on something wooden. Ceramic scraped against the surface. The sound grated.
The covers were peeled back.
Cold bit into my skin, and I sucked in a breath as I looked down.
I was naked.
Stark fucking naked.
He was already rearranging the pillows, fingers digging into my upper arms as he hauled me upright. I barely had time to react before the covers were shoved back up to my neck, tucked firmly around my shoulders, cocooning me in place.
I stared at him as he turned, retrieving the bowl.
He lifted the spoon to my lips.
I didn’t open my mouth.
“My clothes?” I rasped.
“The most effective way to restore heat is bodily contact,” he replied calmly.“I slept with you to keep you warm. Now eat—before it goes cold.”
There was no humour in his voice. No edge of mockery.
He meant it.
Shock did the job my will wouldn’t—I opened my mouth.
