She chose to ignore the part of her that was disappointed.
It took him a while to speak, and when he did, his voice was low and gravelly, the sound shivering down her spine.
“We need a fire. If I finish tending to the horses, would you start one?”
“Of course.” She nodded, grateful that her voice didn’t tremble.
He turned his back to her and focused on the horses, acting for all the world like nothing had happened. Which, she supposed, it hadn’t.
She wanted to kick herself. He’d been in the forest when she’d been held up by Shiva; he’d almost certainly heard that she couldn’t Shift. She still had no idea what his second form was, but you just had to look at him to know he was predator-born. He was at the top of the apex, whilst she didn’t even make the pyramid.
Of course nothing had happened. And she doubted it ever would.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Keeran swallowed heavily—the urge to turn back, grab her by the neck, and claim her mouth roaring through him. The other side of him seethed, its desire a monstrous, twisted thing. It longed to punish her for talking to him that way, and gods, he wanted to as well. Every muscle bunched with the effort of controlling it, of forcing himself to walk towards the horses instead of pushing her to the floor and showing her how torturous pleasure could be. It wanted to explore every inch of her, learning what she liked just so it could wind her to the point of insanity. Until he was all she could think about, until he was all she wanted.
He heaved the saddle off his horse, dropping it to the floor with less care than it deserved. His erection pressed against the restrictive fabric of his trousers, and he was grateful the horses stood between him and Aelia. He palmed it, trying to push it into a more comfortable position, but even that simple touch sent shockwaves of pleasure shooting through him.
What was it about her that had him feeling this way? All she’d done was look at him, and he felt more unstable than he had in years, the beast within vying for control, his grip on its leash slipping from his grasp. He focused on his task, unbridling thehorses and slipping on their headcollars, before using one of the blankets in his pack to rub them dry. He followed the grain of their coats, not allowing himself to think of anything other than wicking off the worst of the moisture that dripped off them onto the stone floor.
He was soaked too, but was beyond the point of caring. By the time his horse was dry and he’d started on Aelia’s, he was back in control, his other side curled and quiet in the recesses of his mind. Only once his thoughts were his own again did he start to let them wander.
Aelia knew what he was. He’d been so careful to keep the worst of himself hidden from her, trying so hard not to scare her, even when she royally pissed him off. Yet she’d seen right through it. Now that he wasn’t at the mercy of the darker side of him, the memory of her words incited nothing more than a resigned misery.
It wasn’t a surprise that she’d noticed, not really. Disappointing, sure, but not a surprise. He was, by his very nature, a monster, and no matter how hard he tried to control it, there would always be a part of him that relished violence. The darkest sentiments, the most depraved emotions on the spectrum of the human psyche, came as naturally to him as breathing.
Self-loathing slammed into him, the blanket halting its circles over the chestnut coat of Aelia’s horse as shame paralysed him. Had this been his first time battling such sentiments, he might have needed a moment before he could continue. But as it was, shame and self-loathing were his constant companions, and the blanket resumed its rhythmic circles with barely a pause.
Keeran’s attention was caught by a soft curse from the other side of the barn, the rain having eased enough for him to hear Aelia struggling with the fire. She’d positioned herself near a hole in the ceiling, clear of the rain falling through it, butclose enough for the smoke to have somewhere to go. She’d formed a pyramid from some of the wooden debris that littered the abandoned barn, using some stale hay as kindling, yet her fingers seemed to be too cold to handle the flint properly.
Keeran watched her, and the pang of longing he felt had a bitter sting after what she’d said about him, after she’d stepped away from him. There had been no mistaking the desire she’d felt; it had coursed between them, staining her cheeks a pretty pink that had sent his heart ricocheting around his rib cage. And yet, she’d stepped away.
She struck at the flint clumsily, trembling with the cold. Her clothes clung to her, revealing the impressive curve of muscle she gained from her years logging in Callodosis. Even crouched and shivering, spitting curses at the flint in her hands, she was still strikingly beautiful.
A smile tugged at his lips, despite the heaviness inside him. That flint was getting even more of a verbal beating than he had. He took pity on it and, being careful of timing, reached for the magic that wriggled eagerly at the base of his skull, sending sparks skittering into the hay just as she struck the flint. He teased the fire into taking hold, just enough to get it started before he reined in his magic.
Aelia grinned, looking entirely too pleased with herself, and Keeran huffed a quiet laugh. He fed the horses some of the grain from the saddle bags, piling some of the old hay near them in case they were hungry enough to try it. Then he made his way to the fire with his pack slung over one shoulder.
Aelia had been starting to get some food going from the supplies in her bag, but she paused to look up at him as he lowered himself to the floor opposite her, his wet clothes straining against the movement.
Without a word, she reached over to offer him the water skin.
It was a shitty apology, but he wasn’t about to turn down a peace offering, no matter how feeble.
“Thanks,” he grunted, taking it from her and knocking back a few gulps.
Aelia said nothing, but she smiled. Shyly. Keeran had to stop himself from staring at the way it softened her face, the same pink creeping into it as earlier. His heart faltered as she quickly looked away, busying herself with fishing for ingredients. She was nervous, he realised with a jolt.
Before he lost himself in a whirlpool of overthinking, he reached for his own pack and dug out some of his own rations.
“These might help?” he said, offering her the dried mushrooms, herbs, and salt.
“Thanks.” She took them from him, being careful not to touch his hand as she did. “This is going to need all the help it can get.”
Aelia added a few things to the watery soup she had simmering over the fire. He almost had to sit on his hands to stop himself from getting involved; gods forbid he push his luck by offering his help.
Instead, he fetched their bowls and busied himself with collecting more firewood, stacking it in a pile beside the fire.
