A sigh from the ground had her hold her breath as she peered down through leaves.
‘You know, up that high, your hair glimmers when the beacon turns.’
It was Bear.
‘Come down to the middle, and I’ll climb up,’ he added, and Scarlen clutched her dagger, unsure of his motives.
As though reading her mind, he said, ‘If I wanted to hurt you, I’d have done it already.’
It was true. He’d had plenty of opportunity.
‘Okay.’ She shuffled lower to rest upon a thick branch, his body coming to settle behind her. ‘Did you find a weapon?’ was all that was on her mind as his arms curled around her to pull her into his warmth, which was appreciated at once, as it was absolutely freezing.
‘No. You?’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s good. Keep it on your lap. Easy access.’
She glanced at her clenched fist around the black hilt. ‘You should be out there looking for one.’
‘I’m okay.’ His arms tightened around her as she shivered. ‘How many sweatshirts you got on?’
‘I only have one. I plan on saving up to buy another from the tuck shop, as it’s so cold here.’
Bear leaned forward, taking her with him, as he shrugged out of his top sweatshirt. ‘Here, put this on.’
Peering over her shoulder, she could see he wore another. ‘You came prepared.’
‘Not my first appearance.’ He flashed a roguish grin, but she knew that smile didn’t mean happiness lurked. Not much lurked except the bitter chill and the nearness of death.
‘You’ll freeze now.’
His nose scrunched a little. ‘Nah, I’m hot-blooded. It’ll help you more. Go on, put it on.’
‘Thank you.’ Scarlen was quick to remove her sweatshirt, revealing her tucked-in t-shirt, slip his top over her head, then replace her green one on top, the scent of him something she couldn’t quite work out, just calming.
‘I like your style,’ he whispered, his voice so close to her neck. ‘Blend in more when you’re green, right?’
‘One advantage over Amber.’
His arms wrapped around her once more, holding her close enough that she could feel each breath he took. Slow, steady. He never seemed to be afraid.
‘I can’t remember the last time someone cuddled me.’ It was too late, her cheeks heated, and she wished she could take back her words.
‘It’s not a cuddle. It’s a huddle.’
He sounded grumpy, so she simply stared at the metal on the dagger, wondering why magick had been added to the weapon and if her one had ever been used before, then the thought occurred.
‘Actually, I can. My sister cuddled me two nights before she died.’ She felt his arm twitch, then tighten that little bit more, his palm flat against her stomach.
‘What happened to her?’
‘She drowned, and my mother died trying to save her.’
His head lightly touched hers. ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’ She knew he had pain like that as well.
‘I’m sorry about your mother.’ It was unthinkable what her father had done, but she couldn’t say any more. What would herwords matter to him anyway? If he knew who he was holding, he would surely push her from the tree.
