Nes took a deep breath, but her nerves didn’t settle. Her veins flashed from ice to fire as she left all her clothing in a pile. The last time she’d feared for someone’s life had been when Damari killed Mikaud. She didn’t understand how she could have already forgotten how agonizing the uncertainty of life could be when you cared too much.
She hugged her arms to her chest, shivering.
The swish of fabric paused as Suri turned. “Nes?”
“Yeah?”
“I hope this works.”
She took a shuddering breath as she stepped toward Toran’s quivering form. “Me too.”
And though she knew Suri was there with Genna, she suddenly felt as if it was just her and Toran in the small room. The door was open and yet the walls closed in, bending toward her with every step closer to the bed.
The only safe place is next to him, her wild mind whispered.
It was a ridiculous thought. But it was exactly what she’d explained to Toran the other night. Safety was relative. Maybe it made her profoundly stupid, but even with Toran unconscious under the blankets, she felt safe with him.
Unconscious and naked. She’d tried not to look when she and Suri had lifted him into bed, but her eyes had strayed. Over his chest, down his stomach, around his hips, all the way to…
She shook the thought from her mind.
Toran could die. This cold could kill him. She wasn’t about to let that happen. Steeling herself, she threw back the covers and slid into bed.
Toran lay on his back, his breathing no more than shallow huffs. She sidled closer. Under the blankets, she ran a gentle hand over his chest and nearly drew back in shock. He was ice to the touch, far colder than his wet clothes had felt.
She forced herself to move closer. Sliding her right arm under, she turned him onto his side and wrapped her other around his front. She shimmied closer until she was flush against him, her hands splayed on his bare chest. They both shivered.
She felt so small, lying at his back. Beneath her fingertips, his heart beat, the rhythm at odds with the storm inside her own chest. A deep breath in brought a rush of smells—salt and ice mingling with a scent that was entirely his own. It settled in her lungs, coaxing peace to her racing heart.
He’d saved her once. Now it was her turn.
If he lived through this, they’d be even. The thought saddened her. It meant there was nothing holding her to him. Once they found Damari, she would be free of Gadore. Free of her obligations to Toran.
She clutched him tighter. Letting go felt impossible.
She lifted her head and met Suri’s eyes across the room. She, too, was curled around Genna.
This would work. It had to.
Nes inhaled again. Turning her head, she pressed a cheek to Toran’s back, feeling the bones of his spine underneath slowly warming skin. He breathed, and she breathed with him.
She closed her eyes and waited for Toran to wake. Waited for her warmth to become theirs.
25
Toran
Toran woke feeling groggy.
His head was clear, but his limbs felt like jelly. He hadn’t woken this way since he’d stopped drinking.
Hot air tickled budding scruff on his chin. At least he was warm. So warm, the most glorious feeling. He never wanted to move.
The memory of the ice-cold well surged back to him, strong and bitter. He remembered Nes and someone else pulling him out. And Genna. He’d gotten her out—of that much he was certain—but he wasn’t sure if it had been in time.
He shivered. Something warm pressed against his side. He leaned into the heat.
The heat leaned back.
