Chapter 2
Harper
Rain pelts us wildly from every direction, and I’m squinting my eyes, barely able to see through the sheets of rain flowing down.
Dark clouds fill the sky, and any icy wind claws at me, making my teeth chatter.
But behind me, Sevrin is a welcome presence, wrapping his much larger body around me and doing what he can to keep me safe from the storm.
There.
You found a place? I ask Ebron excitedly.
I found a place. I can leave you two there to wait out the storm, while I wait it out within the safety of the mountains.
I want to tell Sevrin that we found a place to wait out the storm, but he wouldn’t be able to hear me in this weather. Besides, a second later, Ebron has started angling downward, headed for whatever place he thinks might be a safe haven for Sevrin and I until this treacherous storm calms down.
It’s hard to be aware of anything besides the rain and the wind, but I suddenly spot tree tops flashing below us. Ebron angles further down, then lands, and I blink the rain away to spot a cabin just in the distance. Sevrin doesn’t need to be told. He climbs off of Ebron, then helps me down.
Be safe, I tell Ebron.
I will be very safe, he confirms, then leaps back into the sky.
Sevrin holds my hand as we run through the raging storm to the cabin. We’re going as fast as we possibly can, when I stumble on something and hit the ground, my hand slipping from his. Crying out in pain, I grit my teeth against the sharp aching in my ankle.
Opening my mouth, I plan to tell Sevrin I hurt myself but that I’ll try to make it to the cabin, but I don’t have the chance.
Sevrin picks me up, cradling me against his chest, then continues running for the cabin.
As we climb up the steps, there’s a sudden relief from the pelting rain beneath the porch, but I’m still shivering like a leaf.
He knocks at the door several times, but no one answers, so he turns the handle and opens it up, bringing us inside.
It’s as dark as night within the cabin, but Sevrin doesn’t slow down. He marches us through the space, and then he sets me down on something soft. Thoughtlessly, I cling to him for a second, feeling disoriented and unsure.
“It’s alright, My Heart. I’m not going anywhere. Just let me get a fire started. You’re freezing.”
Releasing a slow breath, I untangle my numb fingers from his shirt, and he stands and walks away.
I can see his shape and movement when lightning flashes outside, but I have no idea how he’ll possibly get a fire started in the dark.
But even as that thought enters my mind, a spark comes to life in the darkness, and the spark slowly blossoms into a fire.
Glancing around the cabin we’re in, I see that it’s one room and a bathroom.
There’s a sitting area by the fire, which we’re in, a little kitchen near the door, and a large bed in the back.
There’s dust on the tabletops, but it’s not thick.
This is a place someone hasn’t been to in awhile, but it’s definitely still in use.
Sevrin looks up from the growing fire, and a gasp slips from my lips.
“What?” he asks, reaching for his dagger and glancing around.
“N-nothing,” I manage, unable to take my eyes off of him.
“What?” he asks again, this time more seriously.
I hesitate, then just say it. “Your face paint. It’s gone.”
“Oh.” He seems undisturbed, resheathing his dagger.
“Is that okay?”
His expression is amused. “We only wear it for our enemies. You’re not my enemy any longer. You’re my wife.”
True enough.
But I hadn’t expected him to be so… handsome. With his face paint on, he looks like a human skull, dangerous and sharp. Now, he just looks like the kind of man women toss their underwear at while he flashes them grins that get them wet and wild. Does he know how good-looking he is?
“You’re staring.”
“You just look different from what I expected.”
“Different good or bad?”
I want to melt into the floor. “Different… good.”
He grins. “I’m glad I please you, because, Harper, My Heart, I really want to please you.”
Those words do something to me. I don’t know if I’ve ever just melted for a man the way I just did for this man, and it kind of scares me. It’s got to be the accent.
He rises and closes the door, shutting out the storm, then goes through the drawers near the bed. After a minute, he pulls out some clothes and brings an outfit over for me and one for him. He hands mine to me, and says, “You should get changed. You’ll catch a cold.”
I take the clothes and thank him.
He stares at me.
Nibbling my lip, I say, “Uh, I have to change.”
“Yes,” he says with a nod.
My cheeks heat. “I’d rather do so with some privacy.”
I see it hit him. He hadn’t even considered that. “Of course.” Spinning around, he offers me his back.
It doesn’t feel like a whole lot of privacy, but glancing around the room I see there’s not a lot of opportunity to get more than this, so I decide to just change as quickly as possible.
I peel off my leathers, use a blanket nearby to dry myself, and then put on the white women’s nightgown.
For one minute I’m relieved to be out of wet clothes, and the next I’m feeling vulnerable in the nightgown.
But there’s nothing I can do about that.
When I’m done, I say, “Finished.”
He whirls back around, sees me, and smiles. “That’s better.”
Before I can respond, he reaches for the buttons on his black leather shirt, undoing one after another.
Slowly, his rock-hard chest and stomach come into sight, and I’m drinking it in before I realize what I’m doing.
Looking up, I see him watching me. My cheeks heat, and I lift my hands and cover my eyes.
“You know, we’re married, you’re allowed to see me naked. Hell, you’re allowed to do whatever you want with my naked body.”
It’s an offer that’s hard to refuse. “I’m fine. Thanks.”
Listening to the sounds of him undressing are pure torture.
Unable to help myself, I peek between my fingertips and find him fully naked.
Water glistens over his tanned skin. His big body is tapered at the waist, and his massive cock just hangs there like it wasn’t just squeezed into tight leather clothes.
A prickling sensation runs over my spine, and I peek at his face to find him grinning at me.
Horrified, I close the gap between my fingers and try to calm my racing heart.
After a minute, I feel him sit down beside me, and I release a slow breath and drop my hands.
He’s wearing simple cotton trousers, his chest still bare but dry.
He turns me slightly, then pulls my feet into his lap, studying my hurt ankle carefully. But while I should be focused on my ankle too, seeing how bad it is, I can’t seem to take my eyes off of the python he’s got hidden in his grey cotton pants. Its outline isn’t the least bit concealed.
I swallow hard.
“Does this hurt?” he asks, rotating it slightly.
I suck in a sharp breath. “No–”
“It does.” He doesn’t seem to care what I said. “And this?” He moves it up and down.
I clamp down, trying not to react, but my whole body tenses, and he seems to accept that as his answer. He slides out from underneath my feet and goes to the bag he dropped by the fire. He digs through it and comes back with a smaller pack, then slides right back under my feet.
“What are you going to do?”
“We have a special paste I can put on it to help with healing and pain. Then we’ll wrap it.”
“What’s in the special paste?” When he glances at me, I shrug. “I’m a healer by trade. I worked alongside my mother all my life.”
“A healer and a dragon rider? You’re truly an impressive woman,” he compliments. Our gazes meet, and I look away again, feeling that familiar nervous sensation fluttering in my stomach.
It’s strange. Ever since I met the princes and started at the dragon rider’s academy, I’ve felt like I’m constantly trying to prove myself to people who will never see me as worthy. But with Sevrin, it feels like he already sees me as worthy. Which is odd, given that we barely know each other.
He opens his smaller pack and takes out a glass jar of green paste. “Oh, and the paste is comfrey roots and leaves, mixed with animal fat. Then we’ll wrap it in linens.”
“I would’ve treated it similarly myself,” I say, surprised by both his knowledge of healing and that his people are more similar to mine than I thought.
He coats my ankle in the cool poultice and apologizes for the temperature, before wrapping it.
The paste instantly eases the pain in my ankle, making my muscles slowly relax.
Then he puts everything back in his little bag and sets it on the ground next to us.
Wordlessly, he takes my other foot and starts rubbing it, sending pleasure radiating through my body.
“What are you doing?” I ask softly, even though I don’t want him to stop.
He looks at me with those strange soft-gold eyes, and speaks, his words laced with that accent that I can’t seem to get enough of. “Taking care of you.”
No one ever takes care of me. I mean, maybe my mom and my dad when I was little, but as a grown ass adult no one has taken care of me, and I hadn’t really thought I needed anyone to take care of me. I mean, right? I’m fully capable of surviving on my own.
“Why?”
He gives me a funny expression. “You’re my wife.”
“Because of a peace treaty.”
He cocks his head, studying me. “I guess it’s time I come clean.”
“Come clean about what?”
“Do you remember when you dropped into my lap on my bone wyrm?”
“Yes.” How could I forget?
“The instant I touched you, the instant I saw you, I knew you were mine.”
“What?” My voice goes up a few decimals.
He nods. “My people experience something called imprinting when they know they’ve found their mate. Imprinting is hard to explain, but it’s an unshakable knowledge that someone has found their mate. The person they’re supposed to be with.”