I freeze halfway down the hall.
A lone energy signature pulses faintly behind a narrow door—one I’d recognize anywhere.
It’s my wife.
What in the Skies is she doing inside a closet? The fact that she’s alone both soothes and enrages me.
Where the fuck are her guards?
The door creaks softly as I step into the dark supply closet, eyes adjusting to the dim light.
There she is—standing against a stack of crates, shoulders stiff with tension, energy signature pulsing wildly with agitation.
I step closer.
She must recognize me in the dark because her posture relaxes, her signature softening to a gentle hum.
How is it that my willful wife found herself alone in a supply closet, one hallway down from where Faramir could’ve easily discovered her?
Irritation crackles inside me.
“What are you doing in here, wife?” I can’t help the edge that undercuts my words.
I step closer.
She steps back.
“Hiding,” she whispers. She inches backward again, until she’s pressed against the stone wall. “I saw your brother one hall over.”
Truth.
I hum, taking another step closer.
“And where are your guards?”
“You wanted to find me in a dark closet with one of my guards?”
I growl at the thought. “You know that’s not what I mean.” One more step, and the distance vanishes between us. Her sweetwinter scent floods my senses, and Skies, I want to bathe in it until I breathe her with every inhale.
I place my arms on either side of her head, leaning even closer.
“I’m waiting for an answer, wife.”
“I—I saw a chance to be alone. I took it. Everyone wants to be alone sometimes.”
I study her carefully. No prickles.
“Which guards?” I finally ask.
“Don’t punish them,” she protests. “It’s not their fault.”
“Which. Guards.”
“Gregoran and Freynk. But please don’t punish them. I like them.”
“Youlikethem?” I growl, jealousy scorching my lungs until I’m practically exhaling smoke. “I’m feeling more and more inclined to eviscerate them.”
Her hand slides up my chest, splaying over my heart. She stares at me with wide, blue eyes, teeth digging into her lower lip.
