He pressed his lips together in a hard line then and gave me a curt nod. Once I descended from the carriage he put his hands on my waist and gently helped me into the saddle of his horse before swinging up behind me. He barked a couple more orders to his men and then we were off.
We moved at a brisk pace, but nowhere near as fast as we had the last time I rode in front of him when we were racing back to the inn from the plundered ruby mines. Stryker’s arms wrapped around me from behind as he held the reins, his chest a firm but warm wall against my back.
His cinnamon and sandalwood scent was everywhere and utterly intoxicating. I had to stop myself from turning my face and burying it in his chest to get a better hit of it. Being this close to him was turning out to be some sort of exquisite torture I’d never experienced before. I couldn’t help but wonder if he felt it too.
It was too short of a ride before we reached Beggar’s Hole. The moon had passed the midpoint of the night sky, yet the streets were filled with rowdy fae. Rowdydrunkenfae.
As Stryker slowed our horse to a walk, I took in the establishments that lined the main street. They were all still lit up and brimming with life. The balconies on the three-story townhouse on our right were filled with scantily clad women, yelling to the men below. My ears started to heat from embarrassment when I heard some of the things they said,and I pointedly looked away. I felt Stryker’s chest rumble with laughter behind me.
On the other side of the street a fistfight had broken out in front of a gambling hall. Shouted accusations of cheating rang out as two men grappled with each other. Stryker had to jerk the horse over when they fell to the ground and rolled into the street, but the fae that passed them hardly offered more than a cursory glance before moving on.
Beggar’s Hole was like a whole new world. One I wasn’t sure I was ready for, but I felt secure with Stryker’s strong presence at my back. Something that I definitely wouldn’t have said a few weeks ago. It’s amazing how much can change in only a few weeks.
Stryker turned our horse down a side street and stopped in front of a narrow four-story townhouse wedged between two near-empty taverns. There was a sign above the door that read, “Rooms for Rent.”
He dismounted and tied the horse’s reins to the hitching post out front. I started to get off as well, but before I could do much more than swing my leg over the horse’s neck, Stryker’s hands were on my waist, gently helping me down. He took his time, letting my body slide against his and not stepping back until my feet touched the ground. Even though I hadn’t exerted myself at all, I found I was breathless.
“We’ll stay here for the night,” he said, his voice gruff.
With a hand on my lower back he led me into the townhouse. The clerk behind the counter was half-asleep and jolted when Stryker announced we needed a room. After collecting payment,he sleepily handed a key to Stryker, telling him the room was on the top floor at the end of the hall.
As we climbed the four flights of stairs to reach our room I felt Stryker’s gaze on my back like a physical caress. This wasn’t the first time we’d shared a room together, but something about it felt weightier, more meaningful than before. Maybe it was because I was unshackled, so I felt less like his prisoner, even though in actuality I very much still was. Maybe it was because we were posing as husband and wife.
My stomach tumbled when we reached the dimly lit room. It was sparse with only a washbasin atop a simple dresser, and a wooden chair next to another single bed that was pushed in the corner.
The bed wasn’t much bigger than the one at the last inn. I eyed it, wondering if I was going to have to sleep on the floor again. And then I thought, if given the choice between the floor and sharing a bed with Stryker, which one I would choose?
I peered over at Stryker to find him staring back at me and knew instantly what my answer would be.
Heat bloomed in my gut and I pressed a hand to my chest, feeling my heartbeat frantically beneath my palms. A wave of dizziness washed over me and I stumbled a bit, grabbing the foot of the small bed for support.
Stryker stepped in front of me, his unguarded gaze tinged with concern. “What’s wrong? Is it your heart?”
Seeing the worry shining in his eyes only made my weak heart beat faster. Thank the stars he wasn’t a mind reader because if he knew the thoughts running through my head I would surely die of embarrassment.
“I’m fine,” I said, taking in slow, even breaths through my nose to calm myself.
Taking my arm, Stryker led me to the side of the bed and encouraged me to sit down. The blanket beneath my hand was scratchy and I focused on that to distract my mind from other, more excitable thoughts.
When I finally felt as if I had myself under control, I glanced up into Stryker’s gray-blue eyes. So often Stryker’s face was shuttered toward me, but looking at him now was like reading an open book. It was all there, plainly for me to see.
Longing. Sadness. Concern. Desire.
I wondered if he realized how much he was revealing to me.
“Is your heart okay?” he asked.
“The spells come and go. I’m fine now,” I assured him, but I could tell he wasn’t convinced.
He reached out and took my hand, startling me. He placed his fingers on my wrist and then his lips moved silently, taking count. It took several moments to realize he was tracking my heartbeat.
“I’m fine, really,” I said, suddenly shy. I tried to pull my hand back, but he held firm. When he swiped his thumb over the tender flesh on my wrist, I couldn’t help the small intake of breath.
How could such a chaste touch feel so criminally good?
One corner of Stryker’s mouth hitched up in a smirk. Smiles were infrequent for the Ethereum lord, and smirks even rarer. It made my stomach tumble all over again.
“Your heartbeat is picking up,” he said. “Should I be concerned?” He was teasing me, but the air between us was too charged to banter back.
