Page 422 of Fated to be Enemies

I curled onto my side, feeling constricted by my tight corset and painted-on pants. Uncomfortably so. I stared at the candle, watching the wax roll into pools in its cast-iron holder, wafting a soft honey-flower aroma into the air.

He returned with something in his hand. “Here. You might be more comfortable sleeping in this.”

It was a long-sleeved black shirt made of a divine material—thick and petal-soft. It was also three or four sizes too big.

“Can you change on your own, or do you need my help?” The devil was back in his eyes. The tips of his wide mouth tilted up.

“No. I can manage.” I pushed off the bed with my injured shoulder, winced, and buckled at the elbow. He caught me around the ribs and helped me into a sitting position, my legs hanging off his bed. Literally hanging, for I couldn’t reach the floor.

“I’m fine!” I snapped.

He crossed his arms and stood there, blocking my way.

“Really. I was just a little dizzy. I’ve got it.”

“You banged your head hard, but the worst injury is in your shoulder.”

I touched the wound lightly, remembering how Drom shoved me. Yes. I had hit my head and scraped my bare shoulder on the jagged wall on my way down to the stone floor. The wound was clean, the stitches tight. I met the glaring Morgon’s gaze. “What?”

“A simple thank you would suffice.”

I opened my mouth to give him a sassy come-back, then snapped it shut. “Thank you,” I muttered, examining the wound.

“It will heal quickly and leave a little mark. It’s a surface cut, but will sting for a while.”

I met his stern gaze.

“Change. Stay put,” he snapped. “I’ll have something for your head shortly.”

He exited the room, the door nothing more than a stone archway carved into the wall. A very large one in order to fit his massive body and wings. Was his house in a cave? If so, then it wasn’t deep underground. A fireplace stood on the far wall, the smoke filtering up somewhere to the open air through the stone chimney. From here, I could see large river rocks carefully embedded into the chimney up to the point where the roof sloped into a dome.

I unlaced the corset in the front, feeling instant relief when I removed it. There were indentions in my skin where it had supported me under my breasts and squeezed my ribcage. After peeling off my pants on top of the bed, I pulled on the shirt Kol had given me, luxuriating in the softness against my skin, raw from being bound so long.

Other than a low-backed chair next to the fire and the bed on which I sat, there was no furniture. As would be expected, the bed was massive—three times the size of my own in my little apartment. There were no posts or headboard, but there was a unique design carved directly into the slate-gray stone wall where a headboard would be. Swirls of vines crossed and interlaced into a pointed arch, meeting the edge of the roof where the dome began. I touched the carven image, running my fingers along the surface of a thorny rose. It reminded me of Kris’s headboard at her parents’ home.

“Kris!”

I jumped off the bed and took a few quick steps toward the doorway, unsure where I was going or what I planned to do. White spots filled my vision as the blood rushed to my head. I stumbled and fell on all fours.

Before I could even see straight, I was lifted by a cursing Kol.

“Damn it, woman. Can you not be so stubborn for once?”

His words were rough, his tone gentle—an intoxicating contradiction—much like the man himself. Instead of putting me back in his bed, he carried me into the next room and placed me in a chair before another fireplace, careful not to aggravate my wound. I waited while the world righted, then peered around. Kol poured something from a kettle on the stove along a wall farther off. This room was similar to the bedroom—a wide, open space encompassing the kitchen and living area with little furniture.

“Kris. Please tell me someone made sure she got home safely.”

He crossed the room and placed a round, warm mug in my hands. “Of course. Kraven took her home.”

I sighed with relief, thankful my friend made it out safely. “He told her you were feeling sick and left early.”

“She wouldn’t accept that. It’s not like me to just disappear.”

He leaned one arm on the mantel, made of dark wood, jutting out from a river-rock chimney like the one in his bedroom. “She protested at first, but Kraven can be very persuasive.”

I remembered the way he looked at her. “I’m sure.”

“Drink up.”

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