Page 27 of House of Crimson Cloak and Silver Teeth

“I don’t need a healer—”

“Yes, you do.” The words cut clean. There’s no room to argue.

I bite back the retort.

“Third.” He pauses just long enough for it to land heavier. “What happened earlier…”

My jaw tightens.

“That doesn’t have to happen again. Unless you want it to.”

Fuck off.

Forget protecting him from assassins. I might strangle him before dawn.

My expression is pure murder. But below the belt, my body betrays me completely. Dark images flood my mind and my cock twitches traitorously.

His eyes stay on mine, steady. “If you want more, you’ll have to ask for it.”

The idea of admitting it makes my throat lock. I drain my glass before answering. “I don’t want it.”

“You do.” He says it gently. “But you’re not ready to admit it yet. That’s fine.”

This bastard.

“Come on.” He pushes up from the desk. “I’ll show you your room. You need sleep. We both do.”

He leads me through a door into a small chamber. There’s a bed against one wall, basic furnishings, a chest for belongings, and a small window.

“Bathroom is through there in my room,” he says, nodding toward his door. “You can tell me if there’s anything you need.”

“Why are you doing this?” I finally voice it. “You could have killed me. Turned me over to the city guard or sent me back to the guild.”

He considers the question.

“Get some sleep, Wolf.” He moves toward the door. “Tomorrow we’ll start figuring out who wants me dead.”

“Wait.”

He pauses in the doorway, looking over his shoulder.

“Thank you.” The words feel awkward in my mouth. “For not killing me or cancelling the contract.”

Garrett’s smile is genuine and warm this time. “You’re welcome.”

His gaze flicks over me once more. “Oh, and Wolf?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll knock before entering tomorrow morning. Wouldn’t want to interrupt anything... private.”

He leaves before I can respond. The door clicks shut behind him.

I stand there in the small room, alone with my thoughts.

My wrists ache despite the salve and my shoulders burn. Underneath it all, there’s a strange warmth in my chest. I collapse onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.

Fifty days of guarding Garrett Clayborne.