Chapter 14 Even Monsters Sleep
EVEN MONSTERS SLEEP
This was insane.
I’d watched him end lives like people snuffed candles, but he’d also thrown himself between me and those claws without hesitation. My throat tightened as I took in the damage—blood streaming down his armor. The executioner was bleeding for me.
“You saved me,” I whispered.
He wiped his blade, sheathing it with a sharp click.
“I would’ve died.”
He rose to his feet. “Yes.”
I flinched. “You didn’t have to protect me.”
“Should I have let the fellcat rip you apart?”
I blinked. “No. I just didn’t expect it.”
A claw jutted out from his side, as long as my thumb and curved like a sickle. The wound was a mess of torn flesh and shredded leather.
He gripped the claw and yanked. A snarl tore from his chest as the barbed edge caught.
“Don’t!” I lurched forward. “You’re making it worse.”
Mist coiled tighter around his shoulders, tendrils writhing in agitation, but he stilled beneath my touch.
I seized the base of the claw. It was lodged in deep, and the angle was wrong; he’d been pulling against the curve.
I adjusted my grip, tilted it slightly, and felt the resistance shift.
With one tug, the claw gave way with a sickening wet sound.
Blood flooded the wound. Then he began to glow.
It started under his ribs, the red light pulsing through a large rune. Slowly, the gash knit itself together.
“You heal fast,” I murmured.
His hand lingered where my fingers had been. “I need to clean up. All this blood will draw more vicious things than fellcats.”
He turned into the trees. Running was an option, but a poor one. My boots were heavy with mud, and I’d never survive these woods alone. So I followed until the trees broke around a hot spring.
Steam drifted off the surface of the water. He unbuckled his armor, and the plates crashed into the ground. Every last bit of the Crown’s steel. A rune on his shoulder flared. Then he waved an arm, and the armor vanished into puffs of air.
He peeled off his shirt.
My throat went dry. His torso was lean muscle packed into a frame built for killing, not beauty. Look away. The command screamed in my mind, but my eyes stayed fixed on him.
His thumbs hooked the waistband of his trousers. The fabric slid down, baring the strong curve of his ass, the flex of his thighs. Heat pooled low in my belly, and my skin prickled with shame.
Steam rose to greet him like it knew its master, coiling around his back. He looked like a god returning to his temple. My pulse raced faster.
And the runes.
They crisscrossed his chest, wrapped his ribs, climbed the column of his neck like vines. Pale silvery lines that caught the light. Dark, angry marks. Some as delicate as spiderwebs. Others jagged and brutal. Each one summoned a different magic, making him a more efficient predator.
I couldn’t stop staring and counting them, wondering how much pain each had cost him.
Every instinct warned not to get too close, but my dress was caked with dirt and gods knew what else from the forest. It needed washing as badly as I did, but undressing here, with him just steps away…
No. Absolutely not.
I gathered my skirts and waded in fully clothed. The fabric billowed, growing heavy as it absorbed the water. Heat wrapped my thighs and climbed higher. The deepest part of the spring was where he stood, where the heat bubbled. The shallows were already cooling.
I approached him.
“You didn’t run,” he said quietly.
“I couldn’t let you bleed out.”
“Even after what you saw me do?”
“They deserved it,” I said hollowly. “The king, Henrik, all of them, but…the way you did it. You enjoyed it.”
“Yes.”
The simple admission chilled me.
He closed his eyes, his mouth curving. “I waited a century to kill them exactly how I’d imagined. It was…perfect.”
I should’ve been scrambling for the shore, but pity twisted in my chest. What kind of existence was that? A hundred years spent nursing hatred, living for the moment you made someone else bleed.
“So now you’re free,” I said. “What’s next? More killing?”
“Probably.”
“That’s it?”
His eyes opened. “I’ve watched enough mortals die to know that mercy is a luxury most can’t afford.”
“Compassion isn’t a weakness.”
“Isn’t it? You helped me today.” He tilted his head, studying me. “And what did it cost you? Your chance to escape.”
I gritted my teeth. “At least I can live with myself. Can you?”
His eyes flickered. Then he turned, presenting his back to me. Two scars cut across his flesh, not the clean marks of blades. Deep gouges that ran from his shoulders to the middle of his back, the tissue raised and twisted. The edges were ragged.
I leaned in, drawn by the sheer brutality of those wounds. My palm hovered over them, not quite touching. Whoever had given him these wanted to maim him. My fingers moved toward the scars, brushing them.
He spun, grabbing my wrist. “Don’t.”
“What are these from?”
His jaw flexed. Then he released me with a slow breath, sinking into the water. “They’re old. That’s all you need to know.”
“They look like they still hurt.”
“They never healed right.”
He swam to the shallow end. Water cascaded from his body in sheets as he strode out of the pool.
I whirled around, my heart beating too fast.
Fabric rustled behind me. The soft thud of something hitting earth. The scrape of leather as he stepped into his boots, the whisper of cloth on skin. Each sound seemed magnified and far too intimate.
I peeked over my shoulder.
He tugged his shirt over his torso. Water trickled from his hair, disappearing beneath the collar.
“Don’t take long,” he said. “We leave soon.”
His footsteps disappeared into the trees.
I scrubbed furiously at the mud caked on me, trying to forget his scars. The way my stomach had twisted at the sight of them. My captor didn’t deserve my pity.
But those scars…some wounds didn’t heal.
The heat from the spring faded too quickly. Within minutes, the night had its claws in me. I pressed myself against the bark of a tree, the executioner’s cloak wrapping me.
Even with it, I was cold. I’d spent many nights huddled in the cold with Rheya, but never with wet hair and a soaking dress. The chill cut deep into my bones.
Kairos sat across from me. “It’s not safe to light a fire. Otherwise I would.”
My teeth chattered. “I’m fine.”
I buried my face in my arms, trying to trap more heat. Then I felt the weight of his attention before I heard him move.
“I have runes that generate heat. If you come closer, the warmth will spread to you.”
I poked my head up, meeting his gaze. “How close?”
“Very.”
“No, thank you.”
“Suffer then, if it makes you feel righteous.”
I hated the fae. All of them. I hated their power, their beauty, their lies. And he was the worst of them. Nothing but desperation would ever make me crawl to him.
He sighed heavily. Then he yanked the cloak off me.
Frigid air slapped my face. I lunged after it, furious, but he caught my waist. The blistering heat of his palm scorched through the fabric.
“What are you doing?” I hissed, twisting in his grip.
“You’re freezing,” he growled.
“Of course I am! Give it back!”
He dragged me into his lap.
I stiffened as he folded me into his embrace. He slotted my body between his legs, his arm curling tighter until escape was impossible. His thighs bracketed mine, trapping me.
I couldn’t breathe.
He was a furnace. The dress steamed where it met his touch—every inch of me aware of the muscle in his arms, the steady thrum of his heartbeat, the rock-solid chest.
“Let me go,” I whispered.
“You’d rather freeze than be close to a monster?”
My pulse throbbed in my throat—he had to feel it.
His breath stirred my hair. Then he inhaled.
My skin tingled. “Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“Scenting me.”
“It’s my instinct,” he said.
I felt his smile against my hair.
Right. I’d spent my whole life thinking the fae were distorted reflections of humanity, but they were more beast than man.
“You smell good,” he purred. “Like fear and anger, both burning so brightly I can taste them.”
“You smell like blood.”
“Seems fitting.”
“Only if your goal is to warn everyone to stay far away.”
“You’d be surprised how many come closer.”
His lips hovered near my ear, his words vibrating through my locked muscles. When his hand flexed against my waist, I shivered. Motionless, he held me in the furnace of his body while irritation and unwanted heat tangled together.
Minutes passed in tense silence. My breathing steadied, matching his rhythm.
His palm lifted to my cheek. “Close your eyes.”
I sucked in a harsh breath. “Why?”
“Because you need rest.” His voice rumbled through me. “You’ll collapse on your feet if you don’t.”
“Not with you.”
“Even monsters sleep.”
No. I mustn’t.
Falling asleep would mean giving over every defense, but gods, I could barely keep my eyes open. A bone-deep weariness made my eyelids feel like lead weights. When was the last time I’d slept? Not since before the almost-execution.
I couldn’t be unconscious around him, but the warmth melted through my defenses like honey. My head grew heavy against his shoulder. Just for a moment. Only to stop shivering.
His thumb touched my temple. “Sleep.”
My lashes fluttered. I tried to summon the terror of the throne room, anything to keep me awake.
Fight—
Darkness dragged me under.