But there were ragged patches, tatters that should have been whole, where the light dimmed and turned gray. Some of them were merely a discolored off-white, but there were also darker patches, showing up like storm clouds. The tatters pulsed and fluttered, as if trying to rejoin the rest of the Veil and become a solid fabric once more.
Try as I might, I couldn’t see anything that gave me a clue as to how to fix it.
Disengaging, I slumped over, resting my elbows on the ledge. They were instantly soaked, the fabric of my shirt becoming cold and clammy. Griff’s hand came to my upper back, rubbing soft circles.
“I don’t know what to do.” The admission came out soft, my voice wavering.
“You’ll figure it out,” he replied calmly.
“How can you be so certain?” I pushed waterlogged hair out of my eyes before looking up at him.
There was a steady rain now, light but cold, soaking through my clothes. Griff was similarly drenched. His black leathers were molded to his frame, outlining every muscle. I could just see the open vee neckline of his shirt beneath his leathers, the black fabric plastered to his skin. His sandy hair was dark, rivulets of water running down his jawline.
The corner of his mouth tipped up. “You’re too stubborn to do anything else.”
I wasn’t sure if the fact that he believed in me wholeheartedly helped or just put more pressure on me. I started to turn away, but he reached out and very gently cupped my face with both hands, holding me in place. Even with the chill of the rain, warmth pulsed between us as that now common jolt flowed through me. He was so close I could see the raindrops clinging to his eyelashes before he blinked them away.
“You can do this,” he said, his voice intent. “I don’t know how, but I know, deep down, that you will. You’ll solve this, Lexa.”
“And if it takes years?” I asked weakly.
“Then we keep fighting. For years.” There was no hesitation. He was fully prepared to do whatever needed doing for however long it was needed.
I wished I had his conviction.
Brushing his thumbs over my cheekbones, he searched my eyes. My melancholy faded away until I found that I no longer cared about anything other than his gentle touch. My gaze focused on his mouth, and I arched toward him. For a second, it seemed he would do the same. But then he pulled back and released me, mask once again on his face.
What. The. Hell.
My face was cold, missing the warmth of his hands.
Why was he always pulling away from me?
He formally offered me his arm, once more every bit of the Champion. Griff the man was fully hidden again.
Keeping my sigh internal, I took his arm, and we walked back to the staircase to descend to ground level, both of us completely soaked. At this point, all I wanted was a warm bath.
He escorted me back to my chambers, ever the gentleman. Once we reached my door, I tilted my head to look up at him, searching his eyes for any hint of his true feelings. But he wasn’t letting anything leak through.
“I’ll see you at dinner.” His hand swept down the length of my spine, causing every nerve ending to combust. He brushed over my hip, his grip tightening briefly.
My body tingled every place his hand touched, and I found that I was no longer cold. Instead, everything was so warm that I wouldn’t have been surprised to see steam coming off me.
I couldn’t deny that I wanted him. Wanted to act on this attraction. If his hand felt that good through layers of clothes, I couldn’t imagine how it would feel on bare skin.
This desire couldn’t be all one sided, could it?
A bath was what I needed.
A cold, cold bath.
There wasa brief knock on the door before Finn barreled in and stopped dead. My hair fell in a sheet to my waist, still loose from my bath.
“I like the look, Lexie. Like wavy silk.” He slid into his usual chair opposite me, unpacking the feast that the staff had left.
The door slammed open. “Did you hear?” Freya rushed in, waving a letter. “Laoise found her mate!” She squealed and did a little dance. “She’s mated!”
“Who?” Finn asked.
