Page 61 of Across an Endless Sea

He takes another out of the drawer and starts hacking at it with a knife.

I snort.

“What?” he demands.

Biting my lip, I debate whether to tell him. “I’ve wondered for a while whether you actually own shirts. I guess this answers that question.”

“Ihadseveral,” he mutters, holding up the second to display a square hole in the back before throwing that at me as well and turning around. “But they keep getting sacrificed to protect a queen’s modesty.”

He cut a piece out for my wings,I realise, blinking at the unexpected thoughtfulness. I don’t know what to say, so I focus on towelling my hair. My eyes stay trained on his back as I step out of the water, using one of his shirts to dry myself like he suggested, before dragging the second over my head. It falls to my knees, enveloping me in the scent of bitter almonds and liquorice.

“Cloth is expensive, and the mountain protects us from the elements,” he continues. “We only tend to wear what we need.”

I swallow. “I’m decent.”

He spins back around, and this time there’s no mistaking the way his gaze traces over my body, lingering at the exposed skin of my upper thighs. Hot.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I whisper, the words more a plea than a true objection.

Because I like it. More than I should.

He swallows, making his Adam’s apple bob. “A kiss,” he ventures. “A kiss, and I let you have my bed for the night. Otherwise, you share it with me.”

What is he doing?

“I would’ve thought you’d make me sleep on the floor,” I retort.

He shakes his head, mutely. “If you try, I’ll tie you to the headboard.”

No more explanation. Just the bargain hanging in the air, waiting for me to take it.

If I sleep in the same bed as Caed, the bond will make things uncomfortable. I’ve never slept in the same bed as a male before. I selfishly want the experience to be with someone who doesn’t hate me every other hour of the day.

Is a kiss worse? It would certainly be more deliberate, though I’ve shared the intimacy with Lore and Jaro before. Somehow it seems more dangerous. What happens if we can’t stop at just a kiss? What if it goes further?

At least sleeping isn’t such an overt prelude to sex.

Why are both options so simultaneously appealing, yet terrible?

“What’s your answer,” Caed presses.

“Why are you doing this?” I ask. “You hate me. You’ve done terrible things…”

“And I’ll do more,” he promises. “But no matter how much I fight this, I just can’t seem to resist you.”

It’s an awful answer, so why does that admission make something in my gut flutter? It’s barely even a compliment—more a statement of contempt.

Taking a deep breath, I shake my head. “I’m not kissing you, and if you try anything while I’m in that bed, I’ll…”

I struggle to come up with a threat but land on nothing. I’m powerless here, with nothing but my slim faith in Caed’s honour to keep me safe.

“I won’t touch you without your permission, little queen,” Caed says sombrely, and I’m oddly reassured by the weight of his words.

Of course, being Caed, the seriousness doesn’t last.

His lips quirk up in a sardonic smile as he continues, “But I can’t be held accountable for whatever you do to me, can I?”

“All I want to do is sleep!”

---