Symond wiped at the blood on his arm, scowling. “I’m calling that a win,” he muttered. “At leastIdon’t need someone to hold me back.”
Rell snorted, still holding Elora against his chest. “Sure, Symond. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
Elora struggled and shrugged out of his grasp and he let her go. She was still fuming, her breath sharp and unsteady, claws twitching at her sides. Symond, on the other hand, had gone eerily still. He was hunched over slightly, catching his breath, but when he straightened, something about him seemed... off.
Rell squinted.
Symond was standing stiffly, his hands positioned awkwardly in front of him, hovering just below his belt. Like he was trying tocoversomething.
Rell blinked.No fucking way.
Symond's face twisted—anger, confusion, something worse. Then, with a sharp inhale, he tore his gaze away from Elora and turned, shoulders tense as he grabbed a healing balm from Vye without a word.
Elora, completely unaware of Symond’s predicament, let out a sharp breath. “I’m taking first watch,” she muttered, turning on her heel and marching toward the barn doors.
Rell frowned. “Elora, maybe let someone else—”
The glare she shot over her shoulder shut him up instantly.
She stormed out, leaving nothing but the cold night air in her wake.
“I’m going to sleep,” Symond said. Rell turned his attention back to him just as Symond retreated further into the barn, fingers raking through and pulling his hair as he slipped into one of the horse stalls.
Rell’s smirk grew as he crossed his arms, glancing at Violette, who was watching him with a thinly veiled exasperation.
“Don’t.”
Rell grinned. “I haven’t even said anything yet.”
“Youwantto say something,” she corrected, crossing her arms.
“Oh, Idefinitelydo,” Rell admitted, still grinning. “You have to admit, it’s kind of hilarious.” He jerked his chin toward the stall Symond had all buthidin. “He’s been blaming her for all his problems, and now he’s walking around sporting a hard-on after trying tokillher?”
She exhaled heavily. “Oh, stop. It’s just the adrenaline from the fight. Bodies do weird thingssometimes—”
“Shh…” Rell rubbed his chin, feigning deep thought. “Hmm, I have three options. Go after Elora, tease Symond about the obviousproblemhe’s having, or just go to sleep.”
Violette gave him a flat look. “Option three.”
Rell snorted. “Not happening.”
Violette raised a brow. “You’re picking Elora.”
“Obviously.”
“Predictable,” she muttered, but there was no real judgment behind it. Still smirking, he pushed open the barn doors and stepped into the cool night air.
Time to track down the feral little runaway.
Chapter 23
Symond
Symond staggered into the stall, pressing his back hard against the wooden planks. His legs felt unsteady, like they might give out at any second, but he refused to let himself sink to the ground. His breaths came fast and shallow, his chest rising and falling like he had just sprinted for miles. Sweat clung to his skin, mixing with the filth of the barn, making him feel disgusting. Tainted.
His fingers curled into his scalp, nails biting into skin. The fight was already replaying in his head, over and over, like a fucking sickness.
The way she moved. The way she fought. The way she had stared him down, fearless even as he had pinned her.
