Now, I wonder if it’s the effects of the darkness, like it changes the body as it changes a cactus in the desert.
Either way, if I’m right or insane, two things are true:
I’ve been with the fae too long, because I almost forgot my own face.
And this period is ending with cramps and fatigue.
Samick’s hand slips away from my midsection, fingertips grazing the material of my jacket, as though he knows what’s happening inside of me, the muscles pulverising my insides.
I turn to face him—but my gaze swerves around his solid arm to the bed.
I falter.
The bed is made, but in a way that borders on plush. Looks like a little nest of stacked pillows and layered blankets.
The blankets are rough and stiff, but I melt at the sight of them. I think of those old cartoons, when a character would smell something delightful and they would simply float through the air towards the source.
That is the urge rising in me.
I throw a moody, envious look at Samick.
Without unhooking his stare from mine, he steals my arm into his grip.
My hand dangles in his bruised one, the exhaustion sagging me.
He unfastens the rope from my raw wrist.
The knots have been less and less intricate, so it’s only a few seconds before the relief blossoms over my flesh.
I bring my hand to my chest and rub my wrist. “I need to change my pad.”
Words he’s heard too many times now.
I don’t blush anymore.
Unfazed, he loops the rope through his belt. “Later. You need to rest.”
He’s right.
I need the rest. The adrenaline burned through whatever scraps of energy I had leftover, and the fatigue is kneading into my bones and muscles now.
I drag myself to the made bed. But before I drop down onto the mattress, I kick off my boots and peel my rain jacket off.
The scrape of metal dragging over concrete cringes me.
My teeth bare against the sudden noise.
Samick shoves the second bunk over to the other side of the doorway, away from the threat of the window.
I drop onto the mattress, worming my way under the blankets, and let my head hit the stacked pillows.
And it’s exactly how I imagine it would be to drop onto a big, fluffy cloud.
A wispy sound escapes me, a breath of pure pleasure.
Samick sinks onto the mattress on the bunk across from me. His satchel drops to rest between his planted boots, and he digs through it for a beat before he chucks something at me.
It smacks me on a frosty cheek.
