Page 57 of House of Crimson Cloak and Silver Teeth

“I can handle it,” I grit out.

He works in silence for a while. His hands move with practiced skill, finding knots of tension and working them loose. The constant ache starts to ease, just a little.

“Better?” he asks.

“Yeah. It’s... nice,” I answer truthfully.

Better than nice to be honest. I can feel him smile even though I’m not looking at him. His hands slide higher over my inner thigh, dangerously close to territory that has nothing to do with my injury. I tense.

“Garrett,” I say in warning.

“Sorry.” His hands pause but don’t move away. “Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t,” I say quickly. “Just... unexpected.”

“I’ll be more careful.” His hands remain where they are, warm and steady. “Didn’t mean to cross a line.”

“You’re fine.”

The moment stretches. His touch burns through my skin even though he’s barely moving.

“How did it happen?” he asks quietly. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

I could refuse to answer. But the darkness makes confession easier and his hand on my leg makes me want to give him something real.

“A contract went bad years ago.” It’s not the whole truth, but close enough.

“The one where you didn’t kill the merchant’s son?”

Of course he remembers that. “After. The guild doesn’t tolerate disobedience. They made an example of me.”

Garrett’s face hardens into something I’ve never seen before. The warmth drains from his eyes, replaced by ice. This is what his enemies must see right before he cuts them down. The darkness he keeps carefully hidden behind smiles and charm.

The darkness that lives underneath all that gold.

I’ve never seen him look like this before. His hand tightens slightly on my knee. Not painful, just there. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I made my choice.”

He’s quiet for a moment. His thumb moves in small circles over the injury. We’re quiet again. Outside, the village sleeps. The mill wheel creaks. An owl hoots somewhere in the darkness.

Then he withdraws, moving back to his side of the bed. I realize how much I miss his hands on me already.

“Better now?”

“Much.” My voice sounds rough. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” He settles back against his pillow, facing me. The moonlight through the window catches in his eyes. “Now will you sleep?”

I get up to check the window one more time to make sure we’re actually safe.

Fingers grab my sleeve. “Wolf. Don’t go.”

The plea stops me. I wasn’t expecting that. The grip on my sleeve tightens. The smart thing would be to push him away. But I’m tired. So fucking tired. Not just from lack of sleep, but from years of being vigilant and alone. Years of watching shadows and waiting for knives. Years of being nothing more than a weapon someone else wields.

Instead of pulling away, I let my body sink into the mattress. For the first time in longer than I can remember, I let myself just be.

“Alright,” I hear myself say. Just for tonight.