Chapter 23 - My Soul to Melt
Callan
That night, Fynn woke me by curling up on my chest. He never came into my bedchamber at night. The curious creature must have missed me almost as much as I missed him. I stroked his fur until he jumped up and padded out of the room. I watched him go, propping up on my elbows in my bed.
The tug in my chest was there. Faint at first, but pulling tighter.
I slipped from my bed, pulling on a pair of pants before I followed Fynn out into the hall.
I should have grabbed a shirt. I so rarely went anywhere but my bedchamber and study with myself in such a state of undress, but the urgency to follow was so strong I wasn’t thinking straight.
The cat wandered into the throne room, but by the time I got there, he had disappeared. Probably sneaking through one of the side doors to the lower level where he could harass some unsuspecting servant.
Thump.
A fat drop of water hit the ice in front of my throne and shattered as it refroze instantly. I glanced at the icicles that clung to the ceiling, desperate to see where it was melting. Perhaps I could use my magic to re-freeze it.
Thump.
“Is it...melting?”
I startled at the sound of Wrenora’s voice, turning as I reached for my sword that wasn’t on my hip and throwing a blizzard of snowflakes around the room instead. She held her hands up to her face as the icy-cold magic brushed against her skin.
“I’m sorry, I...” I rushed forward, worried I’d hurt her, but she just looked up at me with round eyes. “You startled me.”
She relaxed, letting her arms fall to her sides. I could only stare at her—the strange heat I’d felt earlier building in my chest and sinking into my core. The urge to take the last few steps between us was so strong it took significant restraint not to.
I didn’t have words. Instead, I took another step against my will.
Her eyes wandered over my bare chest, all my scars on full display, yet something about the way she looked at me was different than I’d expected.
She didn’t see a broken man before her. Her gaze was one of appreciation and curiosity.
Her attention snagged on the scar over the left side of my chest. It had been hard to stitch, as the pain had been so bad I’d taken breaks to vomit and clean the blood away.
“You...stitched yourself...” She recalled my words from the night before. I wasn’t sure how much she remembered. She’d seemed so tired and small as she sat across from me, shivering in the darkness.
“Yes,” I said, taking another step closer. I was close enough that she could reach out and touch me if she wanted. She could freeze to death in an instant, yet I took another step as her eyes traveled over my arms and abdomen up to my throat, then to the long scars that stretched down my cheek.
I craved the way her eyes moved over my skin, wanting more.
Wanting her hands to follow the same path her eyes took.
I swallowed hard, trying to remind myself she was human, and even if I could touch her, I shouldn’t.
Instead, I took a cautious step back, not missing the way her gaze touched my lips before returning to my eyes.
“You shouldn’t be wandering around my fortress in the middle of the night.
” Or looking at me with so much longing in your eyes, I wanted to finish.
But I knew I was looking at her with the same desperation.
How cruel this world could be. That I could devour her with my eyes but destroy her with my hands.
She nodded before she turned to leave.
“Good night, Wrenora.”
She paused but didn’t look back.