He leans forward and picks up a piece of cheese, and I can’t help but notice the way he uses his uninjured arm, his dominant hand resting lightly on his lap instead. Once again, I find my eyes lingering on his body, the urge to reach out and touch him almost unbearable.
My intention was to nurse the wine he brought up – to enjoy it given that I’ve no idea when I’m going to get another cup – but as I go to take another sip, I discover it’s nearly empty. I was gulping it back to try to ease my nerves, but I’m not sure it’s working. I place the cup back on the tray.
‘We can share a bed,’ I say. ‘It’ll be fine. We’re both adults.’
His eyes glint. ‘It’s because we’re both adults that there’s a problem.’
‘We’ll be fine.’
‘Speak for yourself,’ he says. ‘I’m not sure I’ll be fine. We’ll be plastered together in this tiny bed.’
‘How the heck did they have three people in it?’ I laugh nervously. ‘Surely it couldn’t bear all of their weight.’
‘Ryne has the power to increase the strength of any object. It’s a useful skill on the battlefield. And, apparently, in the bedroom.’
Kyor has finished his food, so he too picks up the wine and downs the glass in one go.
‘Really?’ I laugh. ‘You didn’t even try to savour it.’ I know mine went down far too quickly, but that wasn’t deliberate. It was nerves. Entirely different.
‘If I’ve got to savour something, I’d much rather it was you,’ he throws back, only to wince. He rakes a hand through his hair. ‘Sorry. No flirting right now.’
‘Right.’
‘Right.’ He clears his throat. ‘That wine isn’t good enough to savour, but it’ll help keep us warm.’
‘The room’s warm enough.’
He slides me a glance. ‘Compared to the slums, yes. Compared to the High Hold? No.’
I breathe out heavily. ‘I can’t see my breath. Ergo, warm.’
He shakes his head. ‘Whatever happens betweenus, I will see you spoiled for the rest of your life. I will feed you, keep you warm and safe. I never, ever want to see you go without again.’
The depth of feeling in his words shakes me. I don’t need Caz’s power to know he means them. Utterly.
I can’t respond. My head throbs with the impossibility of it all. It doesn’t matter how much he wants to keep me safe, he can’t. I’m the only one who can do that. Who can keep me, Kay and William safe. Besides, it’s all very well saying this in the privacy of this tiny room, but when push comes to shove, if he’s forced to choose between his father and me again, we both know which way it will go.
‘We should sleep,’ I say. I shift in the tiny bed. ‘You should lie flat because of your injury. I’ll … I’ll curl around you. Lie down on the right side of the bed, against the wall,’ I instruct, ‘and then I’ll lie on your left shoulder.’
Kyor sets the empty wineglass down, blows out the candle, and we’re plunged into darkness. It’s only when the bed dips under his weight that I know he’s joined me on the mattress.
When he stops shuffling, I assume he’s lying flat as directed, so I take my place on my side in the scant remaining space and rest my head on his uninjured shoulder.
‘This is fine,’ I say, not sure who I am reassuring.
I can smell him now. The sweet vanilla scent that is purely Kyor, mingled with the aroma of fresh, clean soap. It seems a crying shame for his skin to be so clean and me unable to touch it. Taste it. Taste him. Gods, how I want to taste him.
‘What are you thinking about?’ Kyor asks. ‘Your breathing is heavier.’
‘Tasting you,’ I answer before my brain connects to my mouth.
There’s a pause. A dangerous one.
Kyor exhales slowly, the sound rough, as if he’s dragging it up from somewhere deep in his chest. ‘Thorn,’ he murmurs. That intimate nickname on his tongue has always been my undoing. ‘You shouldn’t say things like that to me.’
‘Why?’ I whisper, my lips brushing the warm skin of his shoulder as I speak. It’s an accident. Mostly. Because the moment my mouth touches him, even just there, everything shifts.
His body goes rigid beneath me. Then after a beat his uninjured arm lifts before settling around me, encircling my back, his hand resting at my waist. It’s a featherlight touch, as if he’s holding himself back with patience that’s fraying by the second.
