Page 23 of Whispers of Ruin
The sooner they were free of this place and she was away from Brokk, the better. But as she thought it, disappointment filled her.
She didn’t want to be free of him.
And with that realization came more guilt. Kaylia threw her bread into her pack. Hecate, she hated this.
As the sun sank lower, the chill crept into the air again, and she dug into her bag to remove more of her clothes. Putting clean clothes over dirty ones was a waste, but she’d do whatever it took to stay warm without Brokk’s aid.
She tugged on another layer of clothes and her cloak, but they didn’t keep the wind from howling across the land and finding every crevice in her wardrobe. As the colors faded from the sky, ice filled her veins.
It hadn’t been this windy last night, but this place was determined to make her miserable. She hated it here for many reasons, but this cold was number one.
It didn’t bother Brokk as much as he pulled out a blanket, folded it in half, and laid it on the ground. He didn’t pull it open to crawl into it and didn’t layer himself with clothes.
Resentful of his resilience to the cold, Kaylia scowled at him as she set her blanket on the ground. She cast a protective air bubble around them, which helped shut out the wind but not the cold.
She’d give anything for a fire, but that wouldn’t happen in this land of endless sky. Instead of settling beside burning wood, she pulled back her blanket and crawled into the sandwich she’d created.
Nestling into it, she drew her knees up to her chest and tried to shut out the cold as she put her head on her lumpy pack. It wasn’t the best pillow in the world, but it was far better than nothing as she clamped her teeth together to keep them from chattering.
Beside her, Brokk remained sitting on his blanket with his knees drawn up and his arms draped over them. He looked peaceful, but she sensed a wealth of tension running beneath his surface as his gaze constantly roamed over the night.
She didn’t know how, but eventually, sleep claimed her.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
When Kaylia wokethe next morning, Brokk was wrapped around her again. She vaguely recalled shivering herself awake before warmth enveloped her and she settled back into sleep.
This time, she didn’t feel the evidence of his erection against her back, but that didn’t stop her from experiencing a sharp longing for this man and everything that could never be. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe through her mouth to avoid inhaling his enticing scent of man and fresh rain, but his aroma had ingrained itself on her.
Why was he so warm, and why did he affect her like this whennoothers had for centuries? Andwhydid she have to be trapped in this place with him?
She knew the answer to that last question, though it did her no good. And neither did inwardly whining about this unexpected twist her life had taken.
Her life had taken many other unexpected andfarworse twists over her many years, and not only had she dealt with them all, but they’d made her stronger. This one would, too… eventually… somehow.
She should pull away from him as she had yesterday. Her cheeks and lips were icy, but she could handle the cold; she just had tomove.
Instead, she remained nestled against him as an image of Fabian, lying on a beach with his hands propped behind his head as he grinned up at her, filled her mind. He’d been tall and all lean muscle while watching her dance naked in the sand.
She could still feel the pulse of energy flowing up through her feet and spreading through her body. The ocean and sand had teemed with life, strengthening her as she threw her arms wide and basked in the sun’s rays.
When she collapsed, exhausted and laughing beside him on the blanket, he’d pulled her into his arms?—
Kaylia quickly shut the memory down. It was bad enough she was lying in the arms of another man, but she shouldn’t recall that while doing so. Her eyes fluttered open, and she gazed at the colors spreading across the sky as the sun rose.
Brokk didn’t say anything, and his hold on her never changed, but he was awake. She was certain of it.
“You know,” she whispered, “I was engaged once.”
Brokk stopped breathing at her revelation, and then his breath tickled her nape as he expelled it. She had no idea why she’d told him that; maybe it was to remind herself of why she shouldn’t be enjoying lying beside him so much.
Maybe it was to make him pull away, to makehermove, or perhaps she wanted to tell him. He was easy to talk to, and until it became so complicated for her, she’d enjoyed being around him and considered him a friend.
“His name was Fabian, and he was a warlock.” Now that she’d opened this can, it kept coming out. “I met him at a friend’s Samhain party. At first, we were just friends, but over time, our relationship became something more… something amazing, rare, and precious. We were planning our wedding when a vampire killed him.”
Brokk’s arms constricted around her. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s why I created the crone realm and went to live there. I didn’t know what else to do with myself, where else to go, where else to…”
