Chapter 28 #2
A shy grin twitched at her lips from the praise.
When she realized she was staring up at him, she instantly dropped her gaze to his chest. But that was even worse.
The cotton fabric stretched across his chest, bringing attention to his pectoral muscles.
She had a strange desire to lay her head there.
A desire to hear his beating heart. Was it beating as fast as hers?
She stumbled over her feet and stepped on Laurince’s boot. "Sorry," she mumbled, face flushed.
"Just follow my lead, Haze," he whispered, not missing a beat. As if it were only the two of them.
"Where did you learn to dance?" she asked, hoping talking would distract her. She may have danced before, but never like this. Never with someone who was actually skilled at it. Most of the guards she had been acquainted with in Ardentol were too serious to dance, even behind closed doors.
Laurince’s gaze slipped over the crowd before falling back to her. "Rian made me take classes with him. It was one of his conditions if I ever wanted to be the captain of his guard."
"Why? Does it help you wield a sword?"
"The lessons did teach me to be more fluid with my movements, but I think he wanted to embarrass me more than anything. He thought I’d be horrible at it." He chuckled, the memory softening his features. "And at the time, I had a crush on the instructor’s daughter, who often attended the lessons."
"Oh, how cruel!" Myra said, feeling sympathy for young Laurince. She could imagine him being a lanky boy, his current stature not quite built yet, flailing around the dance floor as he tried to impress the girl. "You must have gotten better. You don’t seem too bad to me."
Laurince wore a cocky grin and said, "I never said I was bad at dancing, Haze. I’m actually quite a bit better than he is. He loathed me for it, too."
"I bet he did," Myra mused, her grin unstoppable.
His smirk turned devious, as if there was a secret hiding beneath it. He inched closer, his breath brushing her ear as he said, "I’m better at a lot of things than him, believe it or not."
Heat blossomed in the pit of her stomach. What was he doing? The question plagued her, yet she found herself leaning into whatever it was.
"Oh? Like what?" she asked, her voice thick as she leaned back. Her gaze caught on that godsforsaken dimple.
He cocked a brow. "Wouldn’t you like to know?"
His hand disappeared from her back, and he stepped back, spinning her around. Her hair floated around her, twisting around her neck. As the sweet melody continued and she felt the warmth of the nearby fire on her skin, she let herself relax.
She let herself smile.
She let herself experience her own joy.
Myra might have been drunker than she had planned. Her footsteps were light but clumsy as she headed up the stairs. Her toe caught on the lip of a step, and she nearly fell. If it wasn’t for Laurince, she would have. Because there he was, a hand on her elbow and another on her waist, steadying her.
"Woah there. Perhaps that last drink was a mistake."
Myra waved a hand dismissively at him. "I’m perfectly fine." Once she reached the top landing, she spun around on her heel and placed her hands on her hips, triumphant. "See? Made it up in one piece."
"You should be very proud of yourself," Laurince said with a cheeky smile. "You made it up an entire flight of stairs."
Narrowing her eyes, Myra leaned forward, pointing a finger at him. "Are you mocking me?"
Laurince fell into a comical mirror of her posture with one hand on his hip, knees slightly bent. He lightly poked her in the shoulder, throwing her off balance, and her back bumped into the wall. A picture rattled behind her.
"Oh, my apologies," she said, patting the picture.
"Did you just apologize to the wall?"
"What? Of course not," Myra said, astounded that he would even suggest such a thing. She looked over her shoulder and pointed to the couple in the gilded frame. "I apologized to Maurice and Lily."
"Maurice and Lily?"
"Mhm," she hummed with a curt nod.
When she realized what she had said, embarrassment reddened her complexion. Before she could utter some feeble explanation, Laurince did something she never would have expected from the esteemed captain.
He bowed, dramatically rolling his hand with a pompous flourish with his back parallel to the floor. "My apologies, Maurice and Lily, for I, too, am at fault for rattling you."
Laughter burst free, and before she could stop herself, a small snort escaped. Myra slapped her hand across her mouth, muffling the sound.
The corners of Laurince’s eyes crinkled as his smile widened.
A nearby door creaked open, and someone poked their head out, rubbing the sleep from their eyes. A tattoo of a dragon crawled up his neck. "Do you mind? Some of us are trying to sleep."
"Apologies, good sir," Laurince said, bowing dramatically again, forcing Myra to look away and stifle her laughter. "The lady and I were simply passing by."
The man’s lip curled. "Do so quieter, why don’t you?" He slammed the door shut with a disgruntled groan.
Myra mouthed an apology at the door. And when she looked at Laurince, he was struggling to contain his amusement. Laurince grabbed her hand, pulling her away, before they nearly combusted and the stranger came out of the room to chastise them again.
As they quickly padded down the hall—as quietly as possible for two drunk people—he asked, "Which room did Rian say he and I were in?"
Myra cleared her throat, the laughter finally fading. "The fifth door on the left."
Laurince looked back and counted the doors. "Ah," he said, finding it. "I’ll ask him which room is yours. Just wait here, all right?"
Myra nodded, and Laurince cracked open the door. He peeked inside as if checking to see if the innkeeper had stayed longer than expected. She must not have been because he dipped inside, leaving the door cracked behind him.
As she stared after him, the hall spun around her. Myra leaned against the wall. Pressing her palms flat against the floral wallpaper, she steadied herself, letting the buzz of the alcohol wear off as she waited. A yawn poured from her mouth. She shut her eyes as a wave of exhaustion came over her.
As she hummed a song she had heard earlier, eager dreams knocked at the edges of her mind. She wanted to fall into them, to let the strong arms that awaited her carry her away. She imagined gentle hands slipping up her waist, higher and higher.
Heat bloomed in her core, and she pressed her thighs together. Her hand brushed her hip, skating over her curves.
Hinges creaked, and she ripped her hand away, folding it behind her back. She blinked, the fog slow to fade.
Laurince slipped out of the room, and the lit sconces in the hall kissed his sharp line. He reached up and scratched the back of his head. The fabric shifted around his arm, morphing to his muscles.
Gods, he was attractive.
She held back a gasp and released her bottom lip, realizing she wasn’t dreaming. She prayed she hadn’t said that aloud.
Thankfully, she must not have.
"Slight problem," he said with a grimace.
"What is it?"
"He got only one room."
"Are you sure? Should we go check with—"
Laurince was already shaking his head. "Apparently, there was only one room available."
"Oh," Myra said, shifting on her feet. "Are there at least two beds?"
Laurince nodded.
"That’s good at least."
He chuckled nervously, warmth flooding his cheeks. "There’s one other issue." He pushed the door open and ushered her inside.
She cautiously stepped into the room, unsure of what to expect or how to prepare herself.
A crack of moonlight seeped in through the drawn curtains, a dim glow spilling across the space.
One bed was completely empty. Then her gaze landed on the second.
Rian was lying across the bed diagonally, his limbs spread out like a starfish.
There was no way two grown men were going to sleep comfortably with one of them taking up the entirety of it.
"I’ve tried moving him, but…" Laurince whispered behind her as he shut the door. The lock clicked into place with a thunderous finality.
It was as if a bucket of ice-cold water had been thrown over her, sobering her up immediately. Her heartbeat was in her throat. Her palms grew slick with sweat.
"He sleeps like a log. He barely responded to me when I asked about the rooms. But I’ll sleep on the floor. It’s not a problem."
And maybe it was because of the mead or because Myra was a foolish woman who wanted to pretend she was confident for a night, the offer slipped free before she could think of the consequences. "No, no. Sleep in the bed. It’s big enough."
Although as she looked at it, she wasn’t sure that was true when she considered Laurince’s build.
"That’s really unnecessary. I don’t mind," Laurince said.
He was giving her an out, and she could have easily taken it. She could have let him do the chivalrous thing. But it was too late to change her mind. She had already offered.
Swallowing, she gathered the courage that was attempting to abandon her. "Absolutely not. Like Rian said, who knows when we’ll be sleeping in a bed again?" Myra was already moving toward her small bag.
"I was really looking forward to that," he said, scratching his chest. "If you really don’t mind…"
"I insist," she said, rifling through her belongings. Her hair cascaded around her face, hiding the rising blush. She grabbed her nightgown, which, if she was being honest, was a little shorter than she would have liked when sharing a bed with someone. But it was the only option she had.
She looked over her shoulder at him. "Do you mind?"
"About sharing?"
Myra held up the flimsy nightgown.
"Oh, of course." He spun around, facing the door.
Myra made quick work of changing. Once done, her bare legs felt extra bare.
She debated throwing on her trousers but opted against it, hating the idea of sleeping in dirty clothes.
She turned around, intending to get into the bed before Laurince saw her, but she stopped dead in her tracks.
Her mouth fell open. Laurince was pulling his shirt over his head, and the muscles in his back rippled as he moved.
His shirt landed on the ground with a soft thump.
And when she heard the quiet metal clasp of his belt, she gulped.
Goosebumps spread across her arms. The belt landed on his shirt, but he stopped there.
Myra didn’t know if her shoulders sagged in relief or disappointment.
A loud snore startled her, and she swiftly padded over to the bed and slipped beneath the sheets.
She turned toward the wall and squeezed her eyes shut, trying and failing to get the image of Laurince shirtless out of her mind.
She was afraid it would haunt her dreams for the rest of her life.
Was it too late for her to sleep on the floor?
The bed dipped from the captain’s weight, and a chilly breeze hit her ankles as Laurince found his way under the covers. He shifted, his shoulder brushing hers. She inhaled sharply.
"Sorry," she mumbled, scooting over.
Gods, she would never fall asleep. If she moved even an inch, she would touch bare skin.
"Stop doing that," Laurince whispered.
She froze. "Huh?"
"Stop apologizing for things that are not your fault," he whispered. "I bumped into you, not the other way around."
"Oh," she said. Her lips parted, but she snapped them shut.
"You almost did it again, didn’t you?"
"No," she said, drawing out the syllable.
"Liar," he said, shifting again. When he spoke next, his voice sounded farther away, as if he had turned away from her. "You don’t owe the world an apology for existing, Haze."
Myra didn’t respond. She didn’t know how to. She hadn’t known how much she needed someone to say that to her. Hearing those words settled some of the noise in her head that had been a constant companion for as long as she could remember.
With a deep breath, she sank into the mattress. And whether it was because of the mead, Laurince’s words, or his presence, Myra slept soundlessly for the first time in a long time.