“Not long.”
“Really?”
I nod. Not because I am confident in my prediction but because I know that if the river does not go down soon, we will starve.
I hate the feeling of my damp pants against my skin but do not wish to expose myself to Nia a second time this day. The first was already awful enough.
We return to our meager collection of sopping supplies and sink to the ground in defeat.
Nia hugs her knees to her chest, skin riddled with goosebumps and teeth starting to chatter.
“You are cold.” And I cannot even build a fire to warm her.
“Aren’t you?”
Being near this female makes my blood simmer. I do not think I could be cold if I were buried in a mound of snow. I shake my head. “You can come closer. I promise I will not bite.”
This makes her chuckle; the husky sound warms me even more.
She shifts until the side of her body presses against mine. So soft. So cold.
I stretch an arm around her shoulders, folding her into my warmth. She melts into me, her trembling slowly fading.
“How are you so warm?” She rubs her cheek against my shoulder. I do not think she even realizes she is doing it.
Her hands flatten against my chest.
I hiss out a breath, not because her fingers are cold as ice but because her touch is like a strike of my blade to flint.
She’s not touching me like this because she wants to, I remind myself. She is only desperate for heat.
At least that is what I think until her nose trails along my throat, and she whispers, “You smell nice.”
Maybe this is not only about heat after all.
I dare to breathe in the scent of the springy curls atop her head. Just as soft and luxurious as I imagined. “So do you.” I do not understand how it is possible, but bathing in river water has only enhanced her scent.
“Maddox . . .” There is something different about her tone. Something foreign and yet familiar.
“Hmmm?”
She raises her eyes to mine, and even in the dim light, they still shine. Her curious hands trail down my chest to the fresh scar on my ribs. “We need to talk.”
Talking is the last thing on my mind, but if conversation is what Nia Quill wants, then conversation she will have.
“Do you want me to tell you more sad stories from my life?”
She laughs again. “Maybe later.” Her eyes glitter as she draws back. “First, I’d like to discuss your lie.”
30
“Make sure she finishes first.”
—Nia Quill’s List
Maddox’s entire body goes stiff as the stones beneath us. As much as I’d love to pretend the past is behind us, the time has come to clear the air.
“Why did you make up some false woman?” I ask.
