I feel like I’ve never seen him shirtless before – which I definitely have. I also feel like I might be about to hyperventilate… an odd sensation when the water’s so cold my jaw is clenching against it.
Right now, I’m seriously contemplating diving on him – that’s how intensely my body wants to be against his.
He’s smiling as he reaches under the water, pulls at the ties on his pants, and begins to take them off!
“What are you doing?” I demand.
“Someone put mud in my braies.”
Crap. He’s getting naked. And there’s no other Elorsin nearby to rescue me. There is no one. I don’t know where Rose vanished to, but we’re completely alone.
I’m stuck in the frozen water while Killian washes mud off his junk.
“Killian, if you take your braies off, I’ll –”
Too late. I push past him and struggle out of the water. His braies fly over my head and land with a squelch on top of his other clothes.
The deeply amused laugh that bursts from him and echoes out through the domain takes me off guard.
So off guard that I don’t even notice him getting out of the water until he has scooped me up and almost tosses me over his shoulder again. Which he can do far too easily, even while reaching down to grab his pile of clothes.
“Killian, you’re naked,” I squeal.
“I know. Don’t kick me.”
“They’ll see you,” I growl, deciding not to get descriptive on what exactly I’m worried about the women seeing.
Also deciding to exclude the fact that every inch of me is currently on fire. My frozen fingers are begging me to get my damn shirt off. My legs want desperately to wrap around his hips. Oh, damn I want him. Bad.
His hand splays wide on the small of my back, pressing into me as he inhales deeply. The movement presses his lips to my neck in an almost kiss, and when he pulls back, some of the black has begun to fill his eyes again.
“So?” he asks, his tone slow and deliberate… It takes me a second to realize he’s talking about not caring that the other Sabers could walk through those trees and see him.
All of him!
I kick and squirm a little indignantly, demanding, “Put me down.”
He does, but possibly only because my foot’s almost level with his crotch.
I smother my groan and keep my gaze up – Up, Shade. Eyes up.
It’s harder than it sounds, but he’s pretty much holding his clothes in front of him. Not sure if that’s intentional or not though.
“Braies on,” I order, yanking the clothes out of his hands.
The shirt and pants fall to the ground, and I get the barest glimpse of the Seed of Darkness’ junk before spinning sharply and putting my back to him.
“They’re not allowed to see you.”
“Stop feeling jealous,” he grunts, then sniffs loudly.
“Stop walking around naked then,” I growl back.
“Deal,” he says, picking me up and draping me over his shoulders.
His braies are back on, and his other clothes in the same hand as the one supporting me. Luckily, I’m already wet.
He takes the stairs two at a time, jostling me unnecessarily before opening the door. The scent of baking bread washes over me. He wanders inside with easy grace and dumps me down on the floor. Splat, down hard, no warning, flat on my back.
I groan, and don’t try to get up.
“You’re just as possessive as Pax,” he says. “And you can’t have any of us.”
A set of clothes flies over the back of the couch at me.
“I won’t fit into your clothes,” I shout back.
“They’re Roarke’s pants. Hurry up before I take them back and decide slow drying is better for your immune system.”
That gets me moving. I check that his back is turned, and that we’re alone, then peel out of my wet clothes. Shimmying into Roarke’s pants and a clean white shirt that must be Killian’s, because it could be a dress. I search the pockets of my wet stuff first, pulling the egg and the knife out and sticking them into my new pockets before throwing the wet stuff at him He lets my wet things smack into his back then fall to the floor.
“Feel better?” he asks.
I collapse onto the couch, too busy feeling wounded to get up. “Nope. You’re stuck with me,” I call out, basically to the ceiling because that’s exactly what I’m looking at right now.
My bubble wall brushes against my arm, and I jolt – trying to get upright, trying to get over the back of the seat, and failing. The wall presses too fast, and I’m not quick enough.
I try to call out to Killian, but my face is pressed so hard into the padded fabric that I can’t even breathe.
Then the force moves away, and I fall back, gasping.
Killian’s face appears over the back of the couch.
“Four steps,” he mutters.
“You take big steps,” I gasp.
“Roarke,” Killian bellows, making me jolt and cover my ears.
He doesn’t shout anything else, doesn’t need to, because immediately Roarke pounds down the spiral staircase – running to the bottom step then pausing to look between Killian and me.
“Is the bread ready?” he asks, a crease to his forehead that says he hopes we’re only talking about bread.
I wish.
Pax and Seth are quickly behind him, then pushing past. Pax looks pissed as hell until he’s scanned the room and found no visible dangers. Then his gaze lands on me and softens just a little.
“Explain,” Killian says.
I pull myself onto my knees, resting my arms on the back of the couch and my chin on my arms.
“What’s the problem?” I ask. I mean, aside from me nearly getting squished.
“Bubble. Shrinking,” Killian says. “Four steps.”
“Five,” I correct. “Don’t steal my steps, Killian, I need them.”
I don’t think they understand the layers of fear inside me, but bringing them up and talking about them every few hours isn’t helping.
Roarke looks awkward, like he knows something they
