Page 40 of Monster's Pretty Bride

I turn to her, my chest tightening in annoyance. “You’re freezing.”

She scoffs, wrapping her arms around herself. “No shit.”

I ignore her attitude, already moving toward the hearth. There’s wood stacked nearby, a blessing I don’t question. I kneel, dragging my claws over the kindling before sparking the fire to life. Flames crackle instantly, warmth creeping through the room.

Eryss hovers nearby, close enough to steal the heat, but she’s still shivering. Her body is running on nothing but pride at this point.

“Sit,” I command.

She hesitates.

Then, as if finally giving in to her exhaustion, she sinks to the floor in front of the fire, pulling her knees up to her chest.

Her silence is unnatural.

I watch her out of the corner of my eye as I strip out of my ruined tunic, wincing as I check the damage to my wing. The wound is ugly, the muscle shredded where the arrow struck. It won’t heal quickly.

I clench my jaw.

I hate this.

Hate feeling grounded.

Hate the vulnerability of being unable to take to the skies and rip the throats out of the bastards who did this.

The wood creaks as Eryss shifts, dragging herself closer to the fire. Her wet clothes cling to her skin, her hair darkened from the rain, loose curls framing her face.

She looks fragile.

I’ve seen her fight, watched her endure far worse than this. But right now, she looks like she could break.

I don’t like it.

I push to my feet, moving toward her. She doesn’t look up, but I see the way her shoulders tense when I step too close.

She’s waiting for me to push her.

To mock her.

To remind her that she is weak.

I don’t.

Instead, I crouch beside her, watching as she rubs her hands together, her fingers still trembling.

“You’re too cold,” I say, my voice low.

She snorts. “I’ll be fine.”

I exhale sharply, annoyed by her stubbornness. “If you freeze to death, I’ll have no one to torment.”

She finally looks at me, silver eyes glinting in the firelight. “You’d miss me, then?”

I let my lips curl, but there’s no humor behind it. “No. I’d just be bored.”

She huffs, shaking her head, but the tremor in her hands is getting worse.

She won’t last like this.

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