Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 105132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
She made no move to step away, though her lips parted ever so slightly. If he kissed her again, she would welcome it.
Dravic stood motionless. The room seemed suddenly too quiet. He should step back. He should remember who he was.
Instead, he found himself leaning toward her, drawn by a temptation he had no business entertaining.
Just one kiss.
Nay.
He scowled and with visible effort stepped away from her, cursing himself for even considering it.
He was king. A king who could not allow himself to think like a man whenever she looked at him with those trusting green eyes.
With a regal lift of his chin, he pointed sharply toward the bed. “Go to bed.”
Adira stared at him. For the briefest moment, she thought she saw disappointment flicker in his eyes before it disappeared behind the stern mask he wore so well.
She understood… the king had returned.
She did as he ordered and got into bed.
He went and stood for a long moment before the hearth, watching the flames dance around the logs. Without a word, he unbuckled his sword belt and rested it within easy reach of the chair. He lowered himself into it, stretched out his long legs, and leaned back.
Adira watched him from beneath the thin blanket. His eyes remained fixed on the fire, though she doubted he saw it. His thoughts were elsewhere. But where? On the two men he spoke with. Or on a kiss that never was?
She pulled the blanket up to her chin and surprisingly sleep came quickly.
Dravic closed his eyes with no intention of sleeping. He would not take the chance since he was in unfamiliar surroundings and without his guards to protect him. He was well trained to defend himself if necessary. His father had begun his training when he was young, and his grandfather continued it after his da’s death. But it wasn’t only himself he needed to keep safe.
There was Adira.
He shook his head. He had almost kissed her again and he could not let that happen. A kiss would not protect her. It would do the opposite and bring her only… he shook his head again. She deserved so much more.
He drifted off in a light sleep, cognizant of every sound or slightest movement.
A sharp chill brushed across Dravic’s face and his eyes opened.
More time had passed than he realized, the fire having nearly died, leaving only a dull red glow beneath a blanket of gray ash. He rubbed a weary hand over his face and rose from the chair, every muscle reminding him that a wooden seat had never been meant for sleeping.
Only three logs remained in the basket beside the hearth.
He fed them to the fire one at a time, watching as small flames slowly licked at the dry wood. It would be enough until morning.
As he turned away, his gaze settled on Adira. She had drawn herself into a tight ball beneath the blanket. Even in sleep she trembled.
A scowl briefly crossed his face as he crossed the room. He rested the back of his fingers lightly against her hand.
Cold. Far colder than it should have been.
He glanced toward the fire. The room would warm again… eventually. But she was cold now. He stood there longer than he should have.
Finally, with a quiet sigh born more of resignation than desire, he pulled off his boots, moved his sword beside the bed where his hand could reach it in an instant, then he slipped beneath the blanket. The mattress shifted beneath his weight.
Careful not to wake her, he eased an arm around her waist and drew her gently against him.
She stirred.
For one uncertain heartbeat he thought she might wake.
Instead, her chest rose and fell in a soft sigh, then she nestled closer, instinctively seeking the warmth he offered.
Her trembling eased. Only then did he allow himself to relax.
Only until she was warm, he told himself, then he would return to the chair.
Outside, the winter wind rattled the window. Inside, the warmth of the fire slowly spread through the room.
His eyes grew heavy.
The last thing he remembered was the steady rise and fall of Adira’s breathing against his chest before sleep claimed him.
Shouts broke through his sleep, disturbing his pleasant warmth. He would see someone in the castle reprimanded for this.
A deafening blow rattled the door, and Dravic’s eyes flew open. He was not home in Caerith Castle, he was in an inn. He came instantly alert, though for one brief moment he did not move. Warmth rested against him.
Adira.
She lay asleep in his arms, her cheek against his chest, the blanket tucked securely around them both.
Another blow struck the door.
“My king!”
The familiar call reached him just as the wooden latch gave way.
The door burst inward. Two of his elite guards stormed into the room with swords drawn, prepared to defend their king. They stopped as if rooted to the floor.