“Cold,” I say, stabbing my finger at my chest.
He cracks a half-smile.
“Clothes,” I say, pointing over my shoulder and get a full smile in response.
I run my fingers through my hair. My wet and sticky hair. My hand comes away covered in mud, and before he can object, I pat him on the cheek.
“Mud,” I say, jumping back and running for the shower.
He snatches me up in his arms and deposits me in the small corner where a showerhead is protruding from the wall. No cubicle. No door.
“Not fair. You can’t go using your Saber skills on me.”
He stops for a very long moment. I want him to kiss me again – but it’s like something is stopping him.
“Shower. Now,” he finally says.
He lets go of me and crosses to where he abandoned his own clothes. For the first time in my whole life, I’m sinking in my own inexperience. Okay, honestly, I spend most of my time not knowing how…
How to fight. How to ride a horse. How to read.
But this is so much worse.
How to deal with wanting him.
Let’s entertain a few variations of reality here. Let’s say he’s mortal. He’s right there, unclipping his belt. Back toned and arms sculpted and pants sitting so low on his hips I almost see ass…
I turn and inspect the single tap underneath the showerhead – because without the rush of something crazy going on, I’m just me. Me likes a nice buffer of space, and I respect that space for others.
My head, body, and mouth are all silent, all realizing that approaching Pax is not a skill I possess. I’ve seen the women, the wives on the estate with their husbands, the Silvari with their partners, the ladies in Drayden Tavern. Seen them sauntering up to men. Making a guy smile. Making him follow her with his eyes, then his body. Fluttering her lashes and drawing him closer with a soft touch or a sweetly spoken word.
That’s not me.
Me – falls into Killian, tries to kiss him, and the guy pushes me back. Me – thinks about jumping on Roarke, and the guy knocks me to the ground with his power. Me – needs to learn to keep my hands to myself; things work out better that way.
I flick the shower on – and squeal. “It’s chuckin’ cold!”
Heavy feet boom through the house, thundering up the stairs, as Pax leans across me, wearing dry pants but still no shirt. He adjusts the tap, turning it sharply to the left, and slowly the water warms.
“You’re still dressed,” he says softly, almost but not quite questioningly.
I nod, my teeth chattering too intensely for words. I wasn’t intending on showering in my clothes. The tap just happens to be in a spot that required me to get under the showerhead to reach the thing. The dress I’m wearing begins to absorb the warm water. The cold that had soaked my clothes runs down my body, mixing with an endless amount of mud, then off down a drain built along the wall.
Slowly, my clothes fill with delicious warmth.
The other three run into the room. All of them dry and looking comfortable. Killian takes one look at me, then grunts.
Seth laughs.
Roarke, in the process of tying his hair back, just smiles.
“Can’t a girl get some privacy?” I shout.
He shakes his head, snapping the band into place as he moves across the room to the bed. He picks up the king-sized cover. Killian nods knowingly at me, then grabs the other side, and the two of them ignore Pax to move across the room and hold it in place like a wall. A blanket-wall. Blall? Waet? Nope – just blanket-wall.
Pax smiles at me over the top of the thing, before his brothers lift it a little higher, tucking the corners around and pressing the edges to the walls.
Privacy.
When Shade’s finished in the shower, we retreat. Pax, Killian, and I move up the stairs into Eydis’ attic potion lab, leaving Seth on the stairs to wait as Shade gets dressed.
The attic is cozy, with a shallow ceiling that Killian almost bumps his head on in places; in others, he has to stoop. The window is barely letting any light in, and the storm outside is not helping. The rain has settled to a drizzle, but the sky is still rolling, dark and sparking with fury. Outside, Eydis’ domain is struggling back to life. The grass is brown, the crops withered to nothing. Domains don’t live long if their masters aren’t here to fan the magic. Our presence must be enough to breathe some life into the place.
Killian moves toward the window, followed by Pax – dressed but still strapping his short sword to his belt. Their gazes settle on the estate beyond our realm. Martin’s holding. Tension rustles through both of them. Pax gripping the hilt of his sword in white knuckles – hadn’t he realized how close we are?
I look at the distant building through new eyes. Killian’s – calculating, and Pax’s – territorial.
“Eydis has a view of the mortal’s estate,” Pax says, his gritted teeth drawing the sentence out long and slow. “She has clothes down there that are Beautiful’s size.”
“And this,” I say, holding the folded letter out to him.
Pax takes it.
“She’s more Silvari than we think,” I continue. “I was too busy telling you what the mortal mage said, so I hadn’t properly explained this to you.”
“Explain what?” Seth asks, bounding up the stairs.
Kitten walks in last. Wearing a deep blue Silvari shirt that is tight across the middle, too tight across the bust, and gentle down the arms. Coupled with black linen pants that taper to leather ankles. The garment has been tailored – fits perfectly. Clothes from Eydis’ wall – clothes made to fight in.
I glance back toward the estate out in the storm. On a hook, hidden among papers with curling corners that were nailed to the wall a few hundred years ago,
