Eugene makes an angry hissing sound and raises his head to glare at me.
“Alright, alright, I’m sorry,” I mutter, grabbing the dark crimson potion off the workbench and shoving it into my pocket. “Go back to sleep, I’m leaving anyway.”
My slippers whisper against the stone steps as I descend the many stairs through the manor house and slip out the front door. Outside, crickets chorus in the darkness and the moon is high and round in the sky. It’s not quite a full moon yet, but it will be in a day or two, and the moonlight is bright enough that I don’t need to conjure my own to see where I’m going.
A few things occur to me as I walk across the empty courtyard toward the newly built barracks. Firstly, perhaps I should have dressed in actual clothing. I’m wearing a pale blue nightgown and a pink silk robe, neither of which I would usually want to be seen in. Secondly, I have no idea what time it is. I’m still struggling to get used to sleeping during the nighttime hours, and I can’t remember when would be considered “too late” for a visit.
I reach the barracks and yank open the heavy door with a creek, only to find myself standing in a long, dimly lit hallway lined with dozens of doors. Damn. I don’t know which room is Fox’s.
I’m just about to give up, when low male laughter echoes from somewhere ahead. I let out a relieved breath. It’s not too late to be here, the soldiers are still awake.
I follow the laughter and muffled voices to an open door halfway down the right side of the corridor. I pause at the threshold, taking in the dining hall beyond—long wooden tables standing shoulder to shoulder across the stone floor, while the last orange embers of a dying fire glow weakly in the cavernous brick hearth.
There are five men sitting at one of the far tables, large tankards in front of them, their faces flushed with ale. Their conversation dies when I appear in the doorway. One man nudges his friend, his lips curling into a knowing smirk.
The soldier closest to me turns all the way around on his bench, and stumbles to his feet. “Evening, m’lady,” he hiccups. “Care to join us?”
I shake my head. “No thank you. I was just looking for Fox—er, your commander.”
The soldiers laugh, nudging each other more pointedly. The man who asked me to join them whistles low under his breath, while the first man’s gaze travels from my disheveled hair down to my silk-covered toes, lingering too long on my breasts.
I tug the edges of my robe together and fold my arms tight across my chest, suddenly aware of the chill air against my collarbones. “Could you just tell me which room is his, please?”
The tallest of the men points vaguely toward the hallway. “Last door on the left.” he drawls, exchanging glances with his companions.
I force a smile of thanks and hurry back out into the corridor. That was…uncomfortable.
Pushing it from my mind, I hurry down the hall, counting doors until I reach the last one on the left. My knuckles hoveragainst the rough-hewn wood before tapping lightly, the sound barely audible even to my own ears. There’s no answer.
Maybe he’s asleep, or else, not here? How late is it? I wish I’d asked those soldiers what time it is, but honestly they were probably too drunk to know.
I raise my fist to knock again, making sure to pound loudly enough that if Fox were inside, he would definitely hear me. Again, there’s no answer.
I bite my lip, reaching into my pocket to curl my fingers around the potion bottle. Maybe his injury was severe enough that he decided to have Kastian heal it after all. Perhaps we just missed each other, and he’s up at the manor house right now. In that case, I suppose I could just leave the potion inside, just in case it could be helpful later. Mind made up, I reach for the doorknob and quietly ease the door open.
The room is unlit, with only a stripe of moonlight from a small window falling across the end of a narrow bed. At first, I think it’s empty—until my eyes adjust and I make out the massive shape sprawled atop the rumpled blankets. I freeze, my pulse pounding in my ears.
Fox is lying shirtless on his stomach, his golden hair loose and messy. Both his heavily muscled arms are flung out to the sides, as if he fell forward in exhaustion and just stayed like that. There’s a blanket draped up to his waist and tangled around his legs. He doesn’t seem to be wearing anything else under that blanket, and my gaze lingers for a moment before I yank my eyes away, blushing.
What the hell do I do now?
I want to ease the door closed and pretend this never happened, but those soldiers in the dining hall know I was here. Will they remember that I asked about Fox’s room and mention it to him? Then how would I explain myself?“See, what happened was, I thought you might be injured, so I crept intoyour room while you were sleeping, but then I realized that you sleep naked so I ran away. I didn’t look! …much. I promise! …kind of.”
No, I definitely can’t say that. But I can’t keep standing here in the doorway either, or he’s going to wake up and that will be so much worse.
I’ll have to leave the potion like I’d planned to. That’s probably the least awkward thing to do at this point, and if he asks about it, at least I had a legitimate reason to be here. Hell, maybe he’ll never ask about it. I’ve never been so grateful that Fox doesn’t talk much.
Leaving the door open a crack, I step into the dark room, tiptoeing across the stone floor. I pull the healing potion out of my pocket and set it down as quietly as I can on the wooden nightstand, holding my breath. Fox doesn’t move, and I relax the tiniest bit, keeping my eyes on him as I walk backward quietly toward the open door.
Without warning, a shout of drunken laughter rings through the hall. I jump, sucking in a loud breath, and Fox’s eyes snap open. He jumps out of bed, completely naked, eyes wild.
It happens so fast I don’t even have time to process that before he’s towering over me. His eyes are blurry with sleep, and I don’t think he really sees me, before his hand snaps out, fingers closing around my throat.
Terror shoots through me as he lifts me off my feet, legs dangling helplessly, and slams my entire body against the wall hard enough to rattle my teeth. I gasp, scrabbling at his calloused fingers, squeezing the breath from my lungs.
It’s almost like earlier in our training session, only now I realize how much Fox was holding himself back so as not to hurt me.
He’s definitely not holding back now.
