Page 28 of Stolen Threadwitch Bride
“You’re not my pet.” His voice was soft, and he returned my half-smile. “But you are freezing. Come, let’s get back to camp.”
Back to camp where I was a prisoner. But it was safer than out here. And now I had his name… Maybe that meant things would be different. Besides, arguing required energy I didn’t have, as my shaking knees reminded me. I took a stumbling step and hissed at pain shooting through my ankle.
“And youareinjured.” Without hesitation, he scooped me up, one arm behind my knees, the other around my back.
I gave a feeble attempt at pushing him away, but gave up and leant my head on his shoulder—it was that or let it hang back uncomfortably. “You’re just taking advantage of the fact I’m too tired to argue.”
He huffed through his nose, dark eyes on our route as he set off. “Maybe.”
My boots dripped. They were ruined. “I’m getting your clothes all wet.”
“Eh.” I bobbed in his arms as he shrugged. “I could do with a bath.”
By the time we reached camp, my teeth were chattering. The tent’s magic dried us off as we entered, but my toes were still numb and I couldn’t stop shivering. The fire slumbered, one orange-pink ember glowing.
When he put me down, I edged close to it, hugging myself, but barely any warmth rose off that dim glow. Instead of coming and waving life into it, he—Lysander turned down the blankets on the bed.
“Won’t this warm us up more quickly?”
His mouth twisted and he avoided my gaze. “I… I can’t.”
Lords and Ladies, he wasembarrassed. Like the night I’d asked him to puff—shadowstep us back instead of riding. I’d thought it anger, but…
He cleared his throat softly, shoulders rounding. “There are—”
“Certain limitations.” Like he’d said that night. And those shadows under his eyes, just like when he’d brought us back here. Was he tired—his magic depleted? How many jumps had he made tonight? Maybe fae weren’t the endless sources of magic we thought.
“Come on, then,” I murmured. “We’ll have to warm up the old-fashioned way.”
His head snapped up, eyes bulging.
Oh, gods. I hadn’t thought through the double meaning. “Notthatold-fashioned way.” I chuckled, neck hot. “Just”—I waved at the bed—“under the covers. Close… together.”
I quickly changed behind the screen. My fingers were too stiff and my hands shook too much. I wasn’t about to ask him to come and help me undress, so I ended up ripping off two buttons and tugging the shirt over my head.
When I emerged, the fae lights were at their dimmest and he sat at the end of the bed, shirtless.
I’d slept next to him for four nights now, but either I was asleep when he undressed or he was already under the covers once I’d finished changing, so I’d never seen…
Well.
Allthat.
Shadow and light carved his shoulders, his chest, the ripples of his stomach, hard and well-muscled. My eyebrows rose at the dark hair over his chest and the fine line disappearing into a pair of short, lightweight breeches he’d changed into. For some reason, I’d expected a fae man to be smooth.
Not that I’d thought about how he would look undressed.
When my gaze eventually reached his face, he regarded me with his customary smirk.
I snapped my mouth shut. I’d been staring. And he knew it. Bastard. He had no business looking so… so…
Arms folded, I crossed the floor and slid into bed, not having to climb around him for a change.
“Now”—the mattress dipped as he sat next to me, his smirk widening—“did your new friends scare you out of making any more escape attempts or am I going to have to tie you to the bed?”
My stomach flipped and the heat from my neck crept up to my cheeks and down, much lower. It took a couple of attempts to swallow because my mouth was so dry. I shook my head.
“Which are you saying no to, Ariadne?” Something in his gaze warmed as he drew out the syllables in my name as if tasting them.
