Svenn’s hands move to each side of my head.
“What are you doing?”
“Covering your ear.”
Warmth spreads in my heart at the gesture.
“Nel?”
“Hmm?”
“Is this why you wanted to open a bakery? To give the gingerbread man his body back?”
I knew it. I narrow my eyes at him. “You’re making fun of me.”
“I’m not. I swear.” The roughness of his voice scrapes against my skin. “I apologize for what I said before about your dream.”
He gazes into my eyes like he can see into my soul. I feel bare and vulnerable without the pretense of my High Elf mask. It makes me want to hide. I close my eyes and turn my head to the side to snuggle on the pillow.
“Nel…” He tugs on my hair a little.
I force my eyes to open. The sorrow swimming in his eyes is way too familiar to look away from. I could get lost in those pitch-black irises and never find my way back.
It’s a strange sort of connection, it almost feels like we’re talking to each other with something beyond words.
“I promise to get rid of your headache.” He sinks his lean fingers into my freshly dried hair, soothing me with a scalp massage.
I didn’t think someone like him was capable of such tenderness. He pulls on my hair again but this time a whimper escapes my lips.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asks.
“I don’t hate it,” I mutter.
Whatever it is we’re doing… feels oddly intimate. It’s both frightening and exhilarating at the same time.
I’m in so much trouble.
Walls of brick, not of straw…I remind myself.
But it’s been so long since I’ve felt any spark of joy.
Let me have this nice thing just for today.
“Can you stay for the night?” I ask uncertainly. I’m no longer trying to save the Grimbane’s life. This is for my own selfish need.
“I’ll stay with you, Nel.”
Little butterflies flutter and dance in my heart.
“But I know what you’re doing.” He narrows his eyes at me. That forbidding look is giving me the chills now.
“You’re trying to protect that assassin.”
Fear strikes my heart, cold and true the moment he says it.
I forgot I’m dealing with a Strigon. An immortal who lived for thousands of years. I swallow my dry throat. “We made a deal. Take my blood as much as you want, but you cannot harm the innocent.”
“The guy isn’t covered by our deal. He’s not an innocent.” His voice lowers, gaining an edge.