Page 106 of A Storm in Every Heart
And with that, she turns on her heel and wafts down the hall, leaving me standing alone feeling numb and cold.
ODESSA, PRESENT
Iwake to the warm feeling of bare skin on mine.
For a long moment, I just lie there with my eyes closed, breathing deeply and enjoying the feeling of closeness. Of safety.
I can’t remember the last time I shared a bed with someone—usually, I can’t stand to stick around after a night of fun, both because I’ve rarely found a man I liked enough to want to actually get to know, and because I’m always aware that the longer I linger the more likely it is that I could doom some innocent man to an early death.
So where am I now? Whose heavy arm is wrapped around my hip, and why am I so warm?
All of a sudden, reality hits me and my eyes pop open.
Shit.
I’m lying on my side in the small rickety bed in the inn.
When I went to sleep, I’d done my best to put space between Kastian and me, inching to the very edge of the mattress, but atsome point in the night we gravitated back together because now I can feel every part of my back pressed against his chest, and his arm is trapping me close to him, pulling my ass against his hips.
Shit, shit, shit!
A tight knot of anxiety twists in my stomach as I lie there, feeling the warmth of his body too close for comfort.
Part of me is tempted to jump up and yell at him for touching me, but Kastian is asleep. And even if he weren’t, he isn’t really doing anything wrong or unusual.
Fae males are notoriously intense and possessive, and I should have expected his reaction after we slept together. As far as he’s concerned, I probably already belong to him—an idea that sends a traitorous little spark of excitement shooting down my spine.
Except, he already has a soul-bonded mate out there somewhere. And even if he didn’t, we can never be together. He has no idea what could happen if we go down this path again, and just because I can’t tell him doesn’t mean it’s any less of my responsibility to keep my distance.
How many times do I need to remind myself that I know better than this? That exhaustion and gratitude at being alive is not an excuse to ruin the only truly selfless act I’ve made in the last one hundred years.
Slowly, I inch out from under the covers, making sure not to ruffle the sheets or rustle the mattress. Holding my breath, I rise to my feet, the floorboards creaking softly beneath me. My eyes adjust to the dimness, and I scan the shadowy room.
The room is still dark, but I can see the first light of dawn peeking in through the curtains drawn over the window. Jett is sprawled out on his stomach in the other bed, the sheets tangled around his legs, his face buried in the pillow. Across the room, Connell is slumped on the floor, his back propped against thewall. His head tilts slightly to the side, eyes closed, a soft snore occasionally escaping his lips.
Thank the gods they’re all still asleep, because I need to go outside and think.
I reach for my muddy boots on the floor beside the bed and carry them with me as I creep as quietly as possible across the room. Reaching the door, I say a little prayer to myself that it won’t creak, before easing it open and slipping out into the hall.
As soon as I’m standing in the dim, empty hallway, I let out an enormous sigh of relief.
It’s not lost on me that this is the second time in less than a week that I’ve escaped a bed with a sleeping Kastian in it, and that fact makes my stomach churn with shame and remorse—and, unfortunately, just the tiniest hint of arousal.
Oh my gods, what the hell am I doing?
I slide down the wall and sit on the floor to pull my boots on, all the while my heart pounds as if I just ran for my life rather than sneaking out of bed. Standing again, I walk swiftly down the hall to the small bathing room.
It’s empty—thank gods—and I lock myself inside before leaning on the sink and sucking in several deep breaths.
My eyes dart up toward my own reflection in the age-spotted mirror and I wince.
I’m a mess, emotionally and physically.
I can’t remember ever looking this bad in my life—the circles under my eyes are a dark purplish blue, my hair is tangled and dull, and there’s still dirt on my skin despite my attempts to wash off in the river.
At the thought of the river my stomach does a stupid little flip that sends tingles all over my skin and makes my pulse throb low in my belly.
“Stop it!” I tell myself firmly. “Pull yourself together.”
