Page 83 of Fallen Nocturne

“Carrying you.”

“I can walk,” I insist.

“You can barely stand.”

“Put me down.”

“No.” He resumes walking as though I weigh nothing.

“Arescaine.”

“Rhianelle.” His tone mirrors mine exactly.

I glare at him, but he does not even look winded. The moment my weight leaves my injured leg, the pain eases so much that my protest dies before I can repeat it.

“Only until we reach the capital,” I mutter.

“Of course.”

Something in his voice suggests he is humoring me, but I am too exhausted to argue. I settle reluctantly against him, acutely aware that this is the second time I have allowed myself to rest in his arms.

Something has shifted in how I see the vampire. I am not sure what to call it.

Trust, maybe, or the beginnings of it.

But I am not foolish enough to trust him completely. It’s just enough to stop questioning his every move. I believe he has reasons for the secrets he keeps.

I steal another glance at him, and the memory of the cottage returns before I can stop it.

My name in his mouth. His voice rough with want while he thought of me.

Heat creeps into my face. I look away, but the silence between us only makes the memory louder.

“About what happened at the cottage,” I begin.

Arescaine’s jaw tightens.

“Can we forget it happened?” I ask awkwardly.

He says nothing.

I wait, but he simply continues walking without a word.

“You cannot use me in your fantasies again,” I say firmly, scrunching my brows.

The corner of his mouth curves into a faint smirk.

Annoyance flares through me. “This is not amusing.”

His expression remains infuriatingly composed, though the smirk does not disappear.

“I have a mate,” I remind him.

The amusement vanishes. Something sharp and almost angry flashes across his face before he looks away.

I feel guilty now because I did sneak into his cottage.

“Just forget I said anything,” I mutter.