Page 144 of Ravenrose

Iwake to a familiar scent: a thick musk of leather and citrus.

The memories flood in.

The forest. Ayer dying. Healing him. The dark, intoxicating rush of power. A starless night. Gray eyes seeing everything… seeing me.

I bolt upright, my breath catching in a sharp gasp when pain sears at my side, protesting the sudden movement. I whimper softly, my fingers finding my bandaged ribs. Light, how long have I been out? The last thing I remember, I was in the forest.

I scan the room, panic threatening to rise when all I find is darkness. Then I spot the candle burning in the corner, its tiny flame keeping the shadows at bay. My lungs remember how to breathe as my eyes slowly adjust.

As the room sharpens into focus, the relief is short-lived. I go utterly still, dread tightening in my chest when I see him.

Ayer sits across the room, silent and still—as still as fae. With his elbows braced on his knees, he fixes his gaze on me. When our eyes meet, he leans slightly forward. His usual cold, hard expression is missing; instead, it’s replaced by something else—something unfamiliar.

Is that concern I see in his eyes?

We stare at each other in silence for a few more long beats before I clear my throat, working up the nerve to speak.

“Where are my clothes?”

The clothes I’m wearing aren’t mine. Beneath the blankets, my bare legs brush against the sheets; the only thing covering me is a long, dark tunic that hangs to the middle of my thighs. The scent of leather and citrus clings to the fabric. Ayer’s, I’m certain.

I throw the blanket aside and force myself upright, unable to hide the wince that flashes across my face. Pain protests as I twist toward the edge of the bed. I need to get out of it. I hate lying here—vulnerable—while he’s over there watching me in all his menacing glory.

I shift my weight toward the edge of the bed, ready to stand, but I hesitate. Exhaling a shaky breath, I lift the oversized shirt to inspect the clean white cloth wound snugly around my waist.

“Hayes stitched it up.”

My eyes snap to his; the unexpected softness in his voice caught me off guard. His scent is everywhere—overwhelming me.

“Take it easy,” he murmurs when I shift a little more weight to the floor, then he rises to his feet and steps closer. He’s careful to keep his hands where I can see them.

My eyes drop instinctively to his side, to where his wound should be—the mirror of mine.

“I’m fine,” he says, following my gaze and my thoughts.

It’s only then that I realize I’ve been holding my breath. I nod, exhaling shakily while shifting uncomfortably on the bed and dropping my gaze.

“I shouldn’t be.” His eyes lift. “I should be dead.”

I feel the intensity of his gaze on my cheek, though I refuse to meet his eyes. He knows. My stomach turns, and a wave of dizziness swims through my head at the revelation. My secret. I swallow hard, schooling my face before lifting my eyes to his.

“What a shame,” I say lightly, looking up at him between my lashes, testing the waters, though my words land heavier than they should.

The corner of his mouth twitches. “I live to disappoint,” he says as he steps closer, and my heartbeat quickens, my breath catching as he lightly grazes a finger along the thick bandage at my waist, tilting his head to the side as he peers down at me. “Unfortunately, it looks like I’m stuck with you too.”

His touch is featherlight, but every muscle tenses beneath it. He pulls them away too soon. A small smile tugs at my lips despite myself, and we stare at each other for far too long.

Clearing my throat, I break our shared gaze to scan the room again, not recognizing it. “Where are we?”

“Still in the village.” Ayer drags a tired hand through his hair. My gaze travels over him, taking in the dirt ground into his skin and the dried blood still marking his clothes. “My men are tending to the wounded and helping the remaining villagers with whatever else they need.”

His men. Not him. I take in his strong scent. It fills the room, lingering on my skin and hair. He hasn’t left this room.

“A few raiders escaped into the woods; I sent some men out to hunt them down. I want to make sure the village is safe before we pull out,” he continues, oblivious to how I’m only half listening.

“How long was I out?” I rub my eyes, fighting the overwhelming urge to lie back down and sleep for days.

“About a day.” Ayer studies me, noticing the way I waver slightly where I sit. “You should get some more sleep.”