“It’s all right.” I tuck a lock of silky hair behind her ear. “Your necklace. Did it belong to your mother?”
“Yes.” She clasps the teardrop pendant with reverent fingers. “It’s all I have left of her.”
“It’s beautiful.”Like you.
I reach between us, gently tracing the pendant, my fingers brushing the dip between her collarbones. She doesn’t stop me. “It suits you.”
We fall asleep, cradled in each other’s arms.
Chapter Thirteen
I’mpainfullyhard.
That’s my first thought when I wake the next morning.
Mayahis the second.
The heady scent of frost and winter rose invades my senses, and I greedily inhale it like a dying man. My eyes crack open—Mayah is coiled around me, our legs tangled together, her arm thrown across my chest like I belong to her. Her face is burrowed in my neck, gentle breaths fanning across my skin and setting fire to my restraint.
I stifle a deep groan. These past weeks have been torture—mornings spent carefully disentangling our limbs, praying she doesn’t wake.
I’d love nothing more than to remain here, let her wake leisurely, wrapped in my arms. It feels wrong to leave her, especially after all we shared last night. Our pain. Our loss.
But if she woke now—with the evidence of my arousal pressed against her thigh—it might frighten her. Make her feel unsafe.
So I move, gently peeling her off me. Thank the Skies, she’s a deep sleeper.
A quick scan of the clearing reveals nothing. No unfamiliar energy signatures in the vicinity. Still, I don’t venture too far when I head into the trees to relieve myself, scratching at my stubbled jaw—maybe I’ll shave with my dagger and let Mayah sleep in.
Twenty minutes later, when I head back into the clearing, she’s awake, flopping onto her back with a low groan.
A smile tugs at my lips. “Rise and shine, Mayah.”
Her gaze finds me, blue eyes trailing over my freshly shaved jawline. She sucks her lower lip into her mouth before quickly rolling over onto her stomach.
But it’s too late—I already saw her reddening cheeks. A surge of pure satisfaction courses through me.
“I’m still tired,” she mumbles, her voice muffled through the blanket.
I stroll over to her, stopping near her head, trying futilely not to stare at the swell of her ass beneath my cloak.
“Ten more minutes, baby,” I rumble, my lips curving into a smirk. I hope her blush deepens, even if I can’t see it. “Then we go.”
“Don’t call me baby.”
It’s late afternoon when it happens.
Five, maybe six men heading in our direction, electric currents swarming around them like angry bees. In the next heartbeat, I push Mayah against a tree, hand clamped over her mouth.
Her eyes burn into the side of my face, but she doesn’t move, doesn’t shove at my chest, doesn’t question why I’ve pinned her to a tree, body pressed tight against hers. Mayah just waits—she trusts me. The thought warms something in my chest, even as my nerves crackle with anticipation.
I need to protect her. At any cost.
Their energy signatures draw closer.
“Stay here,” I whisper, meeting her blue gaze. “Nod so I know you’ll listen.”
She nods, her lips grazing my palm, though I’m not certain she’ll actually listen. Not for the first time, I wish my truthwielding worked on body language and not just speech.
