I curled inward and clenched my teeth.
Ace moved beside me. He slid under the covers, warm and solid. He didn’t ask. He just reached out, pulled me close, and folded me into the length of his body like I belonged there. Like I always had.
His arms wrapped around me, one over my waist, the other beneath my neck, and I let myself melt into him. The steady rise and fall of his chest against my back, the strength in his arms, and the soft press of his chin into my hair forced the shivering cold away.
I wanted to lay awake and enjoy the comfort and warmth Ace offered. I wanted to imagine more happening—of turning around in his arms, of clothes being peeled away, and a hot mouth and wicked tongue exploring my skin. I wanted to feel more. Have more.
Instead, I fell asleep in the safety of his embrace.
4
I bolted upright on the lumpy mattress, my heart racing, and my head pounding. Memories from the last few days poured in—the morgue, the tavern, the attack, the arrow. My hand drifted to my bandaged arm.
The bandages were still dry, which meant the bleeding had stopped. The dull ache that had been there yesterday had faded as well. Despite getting struck by the poisoned arrow, I was recovering.
But my concern continued to grow. I needed to know what this meant, and I could think of only a few people who could potentially answer.
The spot beside me on the mattress was empty.
The floorboards creaked downstairs. When I peered over the edge of the loft, I found Ace in the process of gently lifting Nala’s head so he could sit on the couch. He nursed a cup of coffee in one hand, the steam lifting off the surface to carry its delicious smell to me. His other hand lazily stroked my familiar’s matted fur.
The first rays of the sunrise filtered through the window. Soft light gilded his face, kissing the sharp angles of his jawline and chiselled cheekbones. Tousled and wild from sleep, stray locks of chestnut hair tumbled across his brow and veiled his dark gaze. He raked a hand through the unruly mop with a slow, careless motion. Lifting the chipped mug to his lips, he took a languid sip of coffee, completely unaware that in that quiet, golden moment, he looked like a dream.
This was an intimate view at an unguarded Ace, and I couldn’t tear my gaze away.
Wasn’t that pathetic?
“Anymore where that came from?” I asked, trying to break the spell this man had placed on me.
Ace smiled and tilted his head up, his dark gaze finding mine right away. I hadn’t startled him at all.
“I’m not a complete monster.” He jerked his chin in the direction of the meal prep area and the mug sitting on the counter.
“You might just be a decent human being after all.” I flung the sheets back and scampered down the ladder, ignoring Ace’s bemused look. I tried to recall all the reasons I hated this man, but the softness in his gaze and the warmth I felt when he held me last night replaced all the hurtful memories.
Ugh.
“Felt like you thought I was more than decent last night when you were rubbing up against me,” Ace said.
I froze at the base of the ladder.
I’d had a wonderful dream featuring Ace and his hands. Had I arched into him in my sleep?
Heat spread across my face.
I probably had.
Gauging from the smug smile spreading across Ace’s face, I definitely had.
Would I ever admit to any of this?
Never.
“Please,” I said. “It was minimal chaffing, at best.”
Ace choked on his coffee and cast an incredulous look my way as I padded over to the awaiting mug.
The kitchen occupied a small alcove to the right of the entrance and couch. The cup of coffee sat on the compact but functional, rough-hewn counter beside a deep farmhouse sink. I glanced out the window above the counter. Through the dust and grime, a view of the silent forest greeted me.
