13. Chapter 13
Lunette
The feeling of something brushing against my ear roused me into a drowsy half-sleep before the first rays of light did. My head was already pounding from spending so much magic again, but the cocoon I found myself within was comfortable enough that I could ignore it.
Then it happened again—this time with the unmistakable featherlight puffs of breathing brushing the top of my hair.
My attention snapped to the sensation of something heavy across my waist. A large, warm arm wrapped around me, the hand resting possessively on my hip as if it had never belonged anywhere else.
My eyes flew open.
I was snuggled up to Rowan like a veska seeking heat, and he’d wrapped around me like I was worth shielding from the world. A whole flutter of butterflies took wing in my belly. Sure, he hadn’t meant to do it. He was asleep. But I’d never been held by a lover before.
The top of my head rested against his soft beard, which had grown out even more overnight. I thought for certain the brushing feeling on my ear was from it until I saw a tendril of shadow dissipate from the air above my face—almost like it was embarrassed to have been caught.
I knew I should be afraid of something I’d seen him easily transform into a knife, but I couldn’t quite dredge up the terror when it approached me like a curious, timid kitten.
A murderous, shape-shifting kitten—gods help me—but still.
Magic didn’t behave like that—at least, it wasn’t supposed to. My entire life I’d thought I was the one in control. And yet, the way my magic now insistently pulled me toward him felt like a betrayal of everything my parents had taught me.
I should’ve moved out of the circle of his arms. I absolutely should’ve. But gods, it felt so nice. He smelled good too. How had I never noticed before? Like oakmoss and cedar and something darker beneath the surface. Slightly bitter, like dark tea served with just a bit of sugar.
I inhaled again before I could stop myself. The shadow reappeared at my shoulder like a silent sentinel. And I realized it hadn’t just been his arms that had closed around me.
Just one more moment, I promised myself, sinking back down the slightest inch, letting myself breathe him in and feel the slow exhalation of his chest on my back. That small shift revealed that a very important part of his anatomy was working perfectly.
It was natural for men to be this way while they slept, right? It had nothing to do with me, so even thinking about his manhood was incredibly inappropriate.
Still… It felt large.
Muffin made a sound in his sleep that sounded suspiciously like judgment.
A heartbeat later, I heard a rough inhalation. Then his entire body grew as rigid as a board.
Oh no. So much for subtle, Luna.
I was still pressed against his very hard, very erect cock. Mortification made my skin flare with heat.
I squeezed my eyes shut, suddenly unsure whether pretending to sleep was more or less humiliating than acknowledging the fact that he was holding me. I shifted carefully, trying to slip away. Maybe make this look like an accident.
Yes, I’m definitely just waking up, sorry to disturb you. I absolutely did not accidentally rub your parts with my parts.
I made it exactly two inches before I tangled in the blanket and lurched straight back into his ribs.
A muffled groan. Voice still drowsy and rough from sleep, he said, “Lunette?”
My soul exited my body. It left everything behind and found the nearest horse.
The sound of my name caused Muffin to rouse where he was drowsing in the rafters above.
I pushed myself upright so fast I nearly elbowed him in the jaw. “Sorry! I—I rolled. Or maybe you rolled. I don’t know.”
Hair mussed, Rowan looked up at me in the dim light. His small, surprised smile caused an unbearable tightening in my chest.
“Well, someone rolled,” I added weakly.
Gods save me. Why had I tried to explain?
“Good morning,” he murmured. “I slept better than I have in years. I feel amazing.”
I absolutely did not need to hear that he felt amazing right now. Not while certain parts of my anatomy had latched onto the idea of what they could do with his anatomy. My heart hadn’t thumped like this since I was a teenager sneaking glances at the blacksmith’s son.
I turned so he couldn’t see my face. Behind me, the mattress shifted as he sat up. He groaned quietly.
I spun back immediately, healing instincts overriding my embarrassment. “Don’t move. Let me help.”
See, I can be professional. Dignified was something I’d have to work on.
I caught him by the shoulders. Our faces ended up far too close—close enough that I could see every fleck of gold in his eyes, close enough that if I leaned in even a little our lips would meet.
He swallowed. I didn’t move.
“I’m fine,” he said quietly, voice low and intimate. “Just stiff.”
Stiff. Benevolent gods help me!
My heart couldn’t decide whether it wanted to burst out of my chest or crawl under the floorboards. I had to move before I said something ridiculous. In my haste, I nearly tripped over the chair I hadn’t moved back to its place at the table last night.
Heat flooded my chest, neck, face, everywhere. “Breakfast! I’ll…make breakfast.”
Avoidance was my strongest survival instinct.
Perfect. Excellent impression of sanity.
I started busying myself with tying an apron on over my bedclothes then checking the hearth, shoving logs into it with unnecessary force.
Violence solved nothing, but it made me feel productive.
I tried not to think about how much magic I’d burned last night, tried not to worry about how the wards might suffer because I was pouring so much power into Rowan.
Yet, a small, selfish corner of my heart rejoiced at the risk of sacrificing the village’s protection for him.
Muffin jumped down from the rafters and scratched at the door until I let him out for a morning hunt and bathroom break.
I resolutely did not pay attention to Rowan stretching on my bed. Couldn’t blame him since I’d squashed him into a corner with my forced cuddling. My hands shook as I reached for the flour to make pancakes, and of course I dropped the spoon, which clattered loudly onto the floor.
I heard the rustle of sheets and Rowan chuckling lightly under his breath.
“It’s early,” I snapped weakly, bending to fetch it and almost knocking my forehead on the counter. “I’m not…coordinated yet.”
“I can see that,” he said, amusement warm in his voice. The grin he gifted me with was enough to make any woman’s knees buckle.
I would forgive him for teasing me, for anything if he kept looking at me like I was worth the risk of taking a longer look at. Which was a problem. A very…big one.
By the gods, do not start thinking about what happened in the bed again, Luna.
The first rays of sunlight filtered through the shutters. I glared at him over my shoulder, but it only made his smile grow wider. The light softened him in a way I wasn’t prepared for after the daydreams I’d had while lying beside him.
Neither was my heart. Because he looked at me like he approved, regardless of my fumbling, regardless of my ears.
Except wasn’t he just like me? He’d said so last night. Though he hadn’t seemed to understand that he was Nocthel. That was interesting, but not strange. Given how much of Fae history had been lost to time, it was amazing that my family had held onto that ragged old children’s book.
My parents had told me that there were hundreds of Fae-blooded families hiding in pockets throughout the mountainous borderlands between the three kingdoms on the island. I’d met a couple when I was younger. Maybe Rowan was a noble heir of one of them.
That would explain the posture and the quiet confidence he carried even while injured.
“I’m going to help more today,” he declared, standing after only a second of hesitation.
Stubborn streak.
I set a glare on him that would’ve made a lesser man hesitate.
He only shrugged.
“I need to check your wound again then,” I said, dusting the flour from my hands onto my apron.
He lifted his tunic, and I peeked under the bandages, avoiding touching his skin so that little zap of lightning wouldn’t remind me of everything inappropriate I felt. “The stitches look great. At this rate, you might be able to ride a horse by tomorrow. You heal very fast.”
“Fae thing,” he said dismissively. “And a you thing. You’re a very strong healer, Lunette. Tell me truly, does the Assembly know of your ability?”
I poured two oversized pancakes to cook on the griddle while I thought about how to answer. “No. My parents stated in no uncertain terms that I should hide my power and ears from everyone outside our village. Especially from mages.”
“And then I came along…” he mused, sniffing the air as our breakfast browned. “What were they worried about?”
The lightness in his voice sounded forced, so I trod carefully.
“They said the Mage Assembly had hurt our people in the past.” I swallowed. “Especially the females.”
“Females?” His eyes blazed with such an intensity that I would’ve expected any other man to reach for his sword, but I’d experienced his profound capacity for gentleness firsthand.
“Your education on this is probably better than mine, m’lord,” I gibed.
“It missed one very important detail about Nocthel already,” he offered. “Also, still not a lord, m’lady.”
That self-satisfied grin.
He seemed to be at peace with the knowledge this morning. He had a stubborn streak, but he wasn’t inflexible. The contrasting sides of his personality had earned my respect and made him even more attractive.
What I said next immediately silenced the flutter of butterflies that had tried to take flight in my belly. “It’s common knowledge that the shrinking Fae population played an important role in the collapse of the Avanfellian Empire. And it was humans versus Fae for hundreds of years before that.”
“There were human-Fae alliances,” he offered.