I didn’t reply to him, but, instead, quietly said, “Pleasedon’t do that again–”
“And let him hurt you?”
I glanced at him, and, for a moment, color blossomed in his cheeks, something that seemed impossible for a man as rough as this whaler.
I pursed my lips, a weird sensation spreading through me. It was warm, like sipping steaming hibiscus tea on a cold night.
“Thank you.” My voice was quiet, and the whaler gave me one final look before taking a breath and relaxing on his back, his eyes closing in exhaustion.
After placing a clean bandage over his wound, I sat back and let out a slow breath. This was intense—every part of it. Housing a man who could kill without hesitation. I knew he was dangerous but now… I shuddered. Alaric could inflict damage on anyone in his path. Including me.
Except he wouldn’t.
My gaze lingered on his face, relaxed in sleep, his breathing even. My heart betrayed me with a small, aching tug.
He had saved my life. Stepped between me and danger without a second thought. Not because he had to—at least, I didn’t think so—but because he didn’t want me hurt. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had done that for me.
Somewhere between the fear and the mistrust, I’d begun to care whether he lived. And that unsettled me more than any wound or whispered threat.
I shook my head, sealing the thought away. I would keep him alive. I would see him healed. But he could never know who I really was.
Because if he learns the truth of my past, he’ll see me for what I truly am.
The monster. The witch.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ALARIC
Iwas in and out of consciousness, and each time I woke, the woman would notice and tend to me. The pain in my side hurt more than being gored by a harpoon: deep, hot, and lingering.
But I wasn’t about to soften now. Not with her near. Not when the weight of what had happened clung to me like wet, sea-drenched clothes.
When I finally woke to full consciousness, the memories came rushing in like a rising tide:
The ambush.
The flash of steel.
The assassin showing up here, in this woman’s home–her sacred space.
How could he?It was as if he violated a place and a woman I was just beginning to learn about…
The young woman.I saved her life, even when she never asked it of me.
The way she touched my hand, like I was something worth saving, and whispered that I wasn’t the kind of man to kill another.
She believed that.
Even when I didn’t.
I’ve killed men before.Maybe not intentionally, but I’d run my men ragged. I branded them, scarred them, yelled at them, threatened them…
My throat was dry, and every breath felt like fire. I turned my head toward the rocking chair where she usually sat, but it was empty.
Though, I knew she’d been watching over me. Tending me.
Still here.
