25
An hour passed, and still, I was awake. So was the Issaraeth if the tension in that damn chain was any testament. A few times, I’d been on the verge of dozing off when he shifted on the floor. It wasn’t even like he was trying to be quiet about it either.
So much for being used to sleeping in uncomfortable positions as he had claimed.
Irritation nipped at my nerves after he did it again. Between the tumult of emotion about being the prisoner of the male who hunted me, the exhaustion of working my knee, and the heavy food and wine, I desperately wanted to rest. At least in the land of dreams, I had an escape—now that I no longer had nightmares of being captured by him.
Instead, I was living it.
He sighed, the sound like a thunderclap amid the silence.
My fingers tightened where they rested over my stomach.Maybe some of the purple poppy mix would help. “Issaraeth?” I asked.
He said nothing, but I knew he had heard me.
I huffed. “Vaeron?”
His reply whispered over the walls, rolling a shiver of desire down my spine. “Yes, little fugitive?”
Of course, he wanted me to use his real name. “Can I have a potion for the pain?”
He rose, the fire licking over his muscles in a way that made venomous green hiss inside me. I shoved it down.
Just the bond.
But the way he shuffled across the room gave me pause. Was he injured from the fight? I hadn’t noticed anything in the day that had passed since.
From his bag, he pulled out a vial of milky white.
“Not that one. The other.”
He rummaged again, his movements stiff. A minute passed before he found the potion I sought. With a powerful tug, he pulled the stopper free. Leaning across the bed, he handed it to me. I shuffled onto my elbows and accepted the vial.
Ignoring the way he stared at me, I threw it back, holding my breath against the sickly taste. He offered me a glass of water, and I gladly accepted it to wash out my mouth. When I was finished, he retreated, a hand braced on his lower back.
“Are you okay?” I asked him before my brain caught up with my mouth.
“Why? Do you suddenly find yourself capable of caring for a monster?” he replied, ice in his tone.
My teeth clicked shut. I stuck my tongue in the side of my cheek. No, I shouldn’t be asking the male responsible for the death of my parents and others I loved if he was okay. I shouldn’t care if he was in pain too.
Ididn’tcare.
“I was merely asking so I could gauge if I was going to continue to have issues falling asleep.” The statement emerged with the appropriate amount of bite.
“One of the robbers landed a solid strike to my back,” was his cool reply. I scoured our connection, slithering beneath his barrier and absorbing the ache like it was my own. “Not that you would care. You’ve made that abundantly clear.”
He shuffled to his pallet on the floor while guilt nibbled at my gut. He’d hidden this pain from me—carrying me up the stairs multiple times, driving the wagon, helping with my knee. After he’d ensured no harm would come to me. Other than from him, of course.
He winced again, and shame reared inside me, uncomfortable and unwelcome. I smacked it away, but mere moments before he eased himself down, I blurted, “Do you want to sleep up here?”
Goddess, what the fuck am I doing?
Offering the predator a spot next to the prey. I kicked myself for even mentioning it. But if it would get him to hush so I could rest, I’d do it.
A dark brow lifted. “Are you inviting me into your bed, little fugitive?”
“Not like that.” Ungrateful prick.
