Page 54 of When the Wicked Sing
She shifted uncomfortably as the truth started to sink deep into the pit of her stomach. The thought of losing Dax—of never seeing him again—was a pain she hadn’t anticipated.
“Will you come back here? After you take me to Aurelia?”
“No,” he clipped. The finality of his answer hit her like a physical blow, a cold realization settling over her. Lifting her head to look at him as he stared off into the distance at the mist curling around the trees, she wondered why he was so quick to answer.
“Why not?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
His frown deepened. “A slave doesn’t get to go home.”
Chapter 29
Bythetimetheyreached Dax’s cabin, rain had soaked them to the bone, leaving them dripping and shivering as they stepped inside. He turned on a light in the corner of the room, illuminating the small cabin. Dax swept his eyes across the dark space. Everything was still right where he’d left it all those years ago—a large bed in the corner covered in furs, shelves lined with books, hunting gear stashed to the side, and a large, thickly woven blanket draped over the back of a leather couch—except it looked liked someone had dusted.
Mari hesitated near the door, hugging herself tightly as water dripped from her hair and clothes onto the wooden floor. Her teeth chattered, and she rubbed her arms briskly in an attempt to warm up.
“This isn’t the clinic,” she said, her voice sharp with suspicion as she glanced around.
“No,” Dax replied, shrugging off his soaked coat and tossing it onto a nearby hook. “It’s my cabin. You’re staying here with me.”
Mari’s brow furrowed. “Why? Don’t tell me it’s because you’re worried about me.”
Dax crouched by the hearth, coaxing the embers to life. “In case someone else needs the clinic to heal.”
Mari scoffed softly, folding her arms as she leaned against the door frame. “You’re telling me no one else in the village has a spare room? Or is this just your excuse to keep me where you can see me?”
Dax glanced over his shoulder, the flickering firelight casting restless shadows over Mari’s features. “Maybe I don’t trust you to stay out of trouble.”
Her mouth opened to retort, but the cold finally got the better of her, and she shivered hard. He stood and motioned her toward the fire.
“Stand here,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “I’ll get you something to wear.”
Mari stared at him for a moment, her lips pressed into a thin line, before stepping closer to the hearth.
“Now would be a great time for my power to come back so I could expel all this water,” she muttered under her breath, her voice tinged with frustration but softened by the slight tremor in her words.
Dax quickly grabbed a dry towel from the washroom, then a shirt and pants from his dresser before walking back to Mari.
“They’ll be big on you, but they’re dry—”
His words were cut off when he saw her standing shirtless in front of the fireplace, holding up her top toward the heat of the flames.
Her long, wet hair draped over her chest, barely concealing the shadowed curve beneath.
He swallowed hard. “What are you doing?” The words came out lower than he intended, his throat tight.
She glanced over at him, and his chest seized.Gods, she is beautiful. Dangerous, but beautiful.
Mari looked over her shoulder, her expression bemused. “Drying my top.” She said it so matter-of-factly, as if this wasn’t at all unusual. “It’s freezing.” Then she went back to staring at the top, willing it to dry faster.
Dax cursed under his breath and moved toward her, lifting the dark fabric of the shirt he brought like a curtain in front of her. “Put this on. Now.”
Mari arched a brow but didn’t argue. “You Fae are such prudes,” she muttered, then stepped out of her wet boots and pants.
Turning down his gaze, he focused on his boots while trying hard to forget what he’d just seen. “We’re not prudes, we’re—” He juggled for the right word. “Respectful.”
Mari snorted and put on the shirt. It hung just above her knees.
He held out the pants, but she only lifted an eyebrow at him.
