Page 39 of Through the Wicked Wood

“So, according to Galen we’ll be leaving in a few days?” she asks over her shoulder, my eyes catching on her golden hair. She’s let it down after our game of poker and it falls in waves down her back.

“Yes,” I say, clearing my throat and wandering thoughts of Elora in her camisole. “The sooner the better.” Tossing the book onto my bed, I join Elora on the settee. “The weather will start to change soon and it’s best we make headway before the rain starts.” She straightens herself to make room for me, a simple gesture that feels almost intimate. Like we’ve sat together and had tea, reading books a hundred times before.

She nods, taking a small sip from her mug before closing her book. “You’re watching me,” she grumbles, shooting me a look. Huffing a breathy laugh, I recline and rest my head on the back of the couch. My gaze redirects to the ceiling.

“I don’t mean to,” I admit. Counting the beams of my ceiling silently in my head. One, two, three, four… Anything to distract me from this Enchantress. “Where did you learn to play poker?”

Elora chuckles as she sets down her mug on the side table. The pressure dips on the couch as she scoots herself closer. Rolling my head to the side, she sits only a few inches away, studying my face the way I’ve often studied hers. Her brows furrow when she reaches my lips then quickly redirects her attention towards the fireplace.

“My mother taught me,” she says. “Along with my friend, Cade. The two of them loved playing together. It wasn’t my favorite way to pass the time, my body was always too busy to sit for that long, but I do miss their faces whenever we’d play. So full of life and mischief.” She smiles, letting her eyes drift from the fire back to my face. My hand twitches, wanting to reach for hers, but she speaks again before I get the chance. “So, Galen is interesting,” she says, changing the subject.

“He grows on you,” I offer. “I know he can come across as a bit…hostile. But he’s a good man. Loyal. Not to mention incredibly smart.” She hums quietly and I can tell she is chewing her cheek again.

“I’ve been thinking—”

“Sounds very unlike you,” she quips, catching me off guard and flashing me a bright smile I’ve rarely seen. Her attempt at humor warms my chest, and I find myself letting out a small chuckle of my own. Losing all control of my hand, I reach out and tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. She watches me with widened eyes, but doesn’t move away.

So neither do I.

“I’m glad we met,” I say, reluctantly placing my hands in my lap. The lingering heat from her skin, still burning my fingertips.

“I am too,” she whispers. “Lucky for you, our paths crossed by the river.” Crossing her arms, she tilts her head to the side. “Whatever would you have done without my help?”

“We need to help each other,” I remind her, casting her my widest smile. She rolls her eyes, but I catch the smile dancing on her lips. So stubborn. Leaning my body forward, I angle myself even closer. I tilt her chin up with my thumb, but still, her gaze doesn’t meet my eyes. She lingers on my mouth, making the pounding in my chest loud enough to drown out the crackling of the fire. She stares at me with the same intensity she had earlier as she slipped out of her tunic. “But maybe there’s another reason we met. One other than to help each other,” I whisper. “Maybe the Mother has grander plans for us after all.”

All I would have to do is tilt my head forward a few inches. Mere inches. That’s all that separates my mouth from hers. Inches that feel like miles. The courage from the earlier wine leads my next movements. Dipping my head, our foreheads touch, and I relish in the warmth of her skin against mine. I bottle up the way she sounds as she sucks in a sharp breath before she quickly reclines, leaving a cold spot on my skin.

A sudden knock at the door causes us both to jump, nearly sending Elora toppling off the couch. Throwing her hands up to her mouth, she laughs. Laughs. A delicate high-pitched laugh that bounces off the walls of my room. I can’t help but join in her laughter before standing and walking to the door. Sam waits on the other side with her hands on either hip.

“Am I interrupting something?” she asks, stepping up onto her toes, attempting to peer around me.

“Yeah, kind of. Do you mind?” I glare at her as I pull the door closer to my chest, narrowing the gap so she can’t see in. Always such a nosey big sister. Her smile is playful as she steps backward a few paces, crossing her arms behind her back.

“Please let the Enchantress know I have some spare nightclothes for her.” Sarcasm rolls off her tongue, turning from me as she crosses the hallway back to her room. “That is if she still needs them,” she says over her shoulder with a wink before closing her door behind her.

Pressing my door shut, I take a large breath before turning around to face Elora. She still sits on the couch with her knees brought up to her chest. All playfulness from moments ago slipped away, burning with the logs in the fire.

“It’s getting late,” she whispers, standing from the couch. Stretching her arms over head, she speaks through her yawn. “We should probably get some sleep.” Nodding, I drag a hand along my jaw as she makes her way toward the door, trying desperately to ignore the disappointment that settles into my gut.

As she brushes by me to reach for the door knob, our hands briefly meet. The softest graze where our skin connects has my stomach flipping. I take a chance, gripping her hand, tugging her into me. The movement is quick and jarring for the both of us as she collides into my chest. She takes a sharp inhale, and I half expect her to slap me or stumble backward, but she doesn’t. She stays pressed against my body, dragging her eyes up to mine. Heat spreads across my chest where Elora is firmly planted, our fingers interlaced. Leaning down, I press our foreheads together again. Then, moving slowly, I take my time dipping my head even lower, tracing my nose along her skin before planting a soft kiss against her jaw.

“Good night, Elora,” I whisper, my lips brushing against her ear, before sliding my arm behind her to open the door. She’s momentarily frozen in place, pressed against my body with her mouth left slightly agape. Until those perfect lips curl into a wicked smile that sends my heart lurching and all the blood in my body rushing to places it does not need to be. “Good night, Sorin.”

Chapter 21

Elora

The sunlight is still hidden away behind the grayness of early morning as I wake from yet another fitful sleep. I tossed and turned all night again, only the last few nights, it hasn’t been a nightmare keeping me from my rest. Replaying the feeling of Sorin’s lips on my skin over and over again, sleep has eluded me.

My mind is fixated on how his touch caused my stomach to dip and heat to pool inside of me. How I wanted nothing more than for him to do it again. Squeezing my eyes shut I push the feeling and images away. The last thing I need is a distraction, yet every time my eyes close, there he is. The image of his dark hair and stubble pressed close to my neck and his smell clouding every inch of my judgment. The past few nights have all been the same repeated images. Every time I close my eyes, he’s there.

I’ve finally succumbed to sleep this time when, what feels like minutes later, Eviey gently shakes my shoulders to wake me up. Groaning, I stretch my arms and reluctantly dress before heading over to the main house to meet with the others.

Today’s the day we leave Loxley and a part of me mourns having to do so. I’ve grown fond of the village and people here. Even Agnes has warmed up a bit, offering to teach me how to make bread and telling stories about when she lived in Valebridge. I haven’t asked if she knew my mother. Though, it’s crossed my mind more than once.

Settled in Sam’s room while she finishes getting dressed, a light tap at the door catches both of us off guard. Apprehensively, she opens it. I can’t see beyond her who it is but her smile broadens. Without an exchange of words, she closes the door and faces me, arms juggling a rather large, black box.

“For you,” she says, a grin still splitting across her face as she places the large box next to me on the bed.

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