Page 155 of The Sinner's Bargain

He gave a gentle tug on the strand before reaching for the towel. My gaze landed on the shredded skin across his knuckles that were practically peeled back. The area was raw and tattered. I’d noticed the state of them a few days before the morning of our trip to the village, but they hadn’t been this bad. Now, he definitely needed medical attention.

I took his right hand and lightly grazed the tender area with my thumb.

“We need to get a doctor or put some cream on your hands and wrap them,” I said.

“They’re fine.” I wanted to protest, but he pulled me to him using the hand I’d been holding. “I can’t have my hands wrapped.”

I raised my eyes to his. “Why not? They could get infected.”

Gently, he turned my hand over to trace the gashes from the teacup still lining my palm.

“Do they hurt?”

I recognized his attempt to change the topic, but still I shook my head. He kissed the cuts one at a time. First one hand than the other. His breath warm against my skin.

“I wanted to kill her for hurting you,” he said softly. “I still do. I still might,” he decided.

“She’s not important and she didn’t hurt me. She...” I tried to think what that feeling had been. “She enraged me for saying the things she was saying.”

“What did she say?”

I immediately shook my head. “It’s my wedding night. I’m not going to think about her.”

Thoran smiled. “You’re right. It is. My apologies.” He kissed my knuckles. “Let me make it up to you.”

Intrigued, I let him lead me from the bathroom, across the bedroom to the door. He paused to glance into the hallway before taking me up into his arms and walking to his room.

“Are you going to carry me across every threshold?” I teased.

“It’s supposed to be lucky and I’m not taking any chances.”

I laughed and nuzzled his neck, thinking I’d already gotten lucky. So lucky. I felt high and delirious and so lucky I wanted to laugh and cry and scream and dance.

I tightened my arms around the man I was certain without a shred of hesitance I would die without, brimming with a million things I was aching to say, but terrified to.

“Close your eyes, sweetheart,” he murmured.

I did without hesitation. My face stayed pressed into his warm skin. His rich scent. I kissed the spot and felt his arms tighten.

I heard his door open and the creak of floorboards under the weight as he stepped through. The familiar scent of him, of leather and pine welcomed us, but there was something hot and spicy, and delicious too. Something that made my mouth water and my stomach rumble ... loudly.

“My poor baby,” he whispered into my cheek. “Just a minute longer.”

I was set gently down onto my feet and told not to move. He left me there. Without his warmth, the room was cold against my damp flesh. I shivered and squeezed my arms around myself.

Something thick and fluffy settled on my shoulders and pulled around my body. My arms were guided through sleeves, and I was liberated from the towel as the robe was fastened at my waist.

“Okay,” Thoran said as he took me gently by the arms and faced me in the direction of something golden washing behind my closed eyelids. “Open.”

Hundreds of swaying lights splintered before I blinked a few times to focus.

Dozens of long, white candles lined every inch of space, illuminating the room I loved so much into a halo of warmth. It washed across the glass and spilled over the bed with fresh sheets that held the hint of lilacs. By the window, a small, round table had been erected draped in white cloth. Two plates of pasta steamed across from each other, filling the room with the scent of cream, garlic, and chicken. My mouth nearly started watering.

“This is so beautiful.”

Wordlessly, he led me over and drew out one of the iron chairs and tucked me beneath the table. He took his place across from me. Like me, he too was wearing a soft, white robe. Mine must have belonged to him because it went to my ankles and over my hands. And it held his scent.

“Eat,” he said, though not necessary; I was half ready to face plant into my plate.

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