Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
Blair
Blair woke to find the fire smoke and ash, the flames long gone. Yet, warmth encompassed her along with a considerable weight hugging her middle.
She blinked. Blasted books, that weight belonged to an arm.
Not just any arm. Lorkan’s. It’s owner smelled of smoke and moss, breathing evenly as he held her to his chest. To make matters worse, as if that were possible, his hand palmed her bare stomach.
Right. She’d undressed out of her soaked clothes the night before. They must’ve fallen asleep by the fire together.
Despite the jarring realization Lorkan held her, she found comfort in his nearness. How large he was compared to her, holding her close. But they had a prophecy to decipher, and Blair couldn’t afford to lean into the desire coursing through her body.
She fidgeted, hoping to peel his arm free—
Blair froze. What in the Goddess was that pressing against her backside?
Awareness jolted through her like she was riddled with bone-deep cold all over again. She’d been wrong earlier. Things could certainly get worse. Because that was no dagger. No book. No anything but Lorkan’s—rather large—manhood, hard and ready.
Blair moved ever so slightly to put room between her and Lorkan, but he woke. He stiffened behind her and an awkward stillness brimmed in the air.
Finally, Lorkan cursed, jerking backward.
Blair rolled forward with the blanket, and behind her, Lorkan fidgeted with his pants. After last night, it was his turn for a blush to creep across his cheeks.
Perhaps it was hunger, tiredness, or genuine amusement, but Blair giggled.
Lorkan seethed. “It’s an entirely natural morning phenomenon.”
Blair snorted. “Right. Goddess forbid you’re caught being attracted to me.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “That is not—moons, I just didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”
Blair rose and found her clothes stiff but at least dry. “I’ve had a man’s length rub against me before, Lorkan. I find it quite comfortable.”
Lorkan stewed, his jaw clenching so tight, Blair feared he’d break a tooth.
“Don’t suppose we should head for the ferry?” she pulled on her clothes and fastened her cloak.
Rook appeared at the window just as Lorkan opened it.
“I’m afraid the only way of travel we’re using today is by way of danu.”
No wind or flurries hung in the air, but stillness did. Blair peeked her head out, inspecting the village blanketed under six feet of snow. It towered over most establishments, blocking windows and doors. Ahead, the river didn’t move, ice hardened from bank to bank.
“Blasted books,” she hissed.
“We’ll have to go to Fika,” Lorkan said.
Blair fisted her hands at her sides. No. She refused to go there, especially after last night. The way Lorkan had cared for her. Held her. Blair’s traitorous heart skipped a beat, her skin growing warm at the memory.
“There has to be another—”
Lorkan held up his hand, silencing her.
Blair saw red, marching towards him. “Lets get one thing straight: I don’t take orders from you—”
In two long strides, Lorkan was upon her, hand clasped over her mouth. His golden eyes landed on the door. He listened. Seethed.
Blair sent out her magic and detected the magic of half a dozen others just beyond the door.
“Lorkan—”
But it was too late to warn him. The door burst open, and they flew across the room. Blair landed with a harsh thud, pain jarring through her head. She cursed, kneading her temple as she blinked her sights back into focus. A ringing pierced her ears, and she barely registered Lorkan’s rushed words.
“Get up,” he said. “We need to leave.”
Blasted books, this bossy and arrogant werewolf.
“I’m trying!” she shouted.
Rook cawed endlessly above them. The green smoke ahead dissipated. Debris and shattered glass littered the room. Six Guards stood at the ready. Weapons in hand. Hands splayed with magic.
“You don’t need to be ruinin’ my inn! You hear me!” the innkeeper called from behind.
“Blair Carson, you’re under arrest!” a Guard roared.
Fuck that, Blair thought instantly. She’d not spent a second in Tùir, not when she had every intention of figuring out how to break the curse.
Blair threw up her hand, sending a wave of wind through the room, knocking the Guards and innkeeper back into the adjacent wall. She and Lorkan rushed to the shattered window. Snow blanketed the street below.
“We have to jump,” Blair shouted, grasping Lorkan’s hand.
A shudder ran up her arm, but she ignored it.
“Take us to Fika.”
Blair whirled, ire scorching through. “Stop telling me what to do!”
“Stars above, Fika or prison, Blair, which is it?” Lorkan shouted over the wind.
“Blasted books, let me think!”
“There isn’t any time!”
But that’s all Blair wanted. Time. A moment. The ability to grasp her newfound reality. Why was it so difficult to accept? Did the werewolf at her side have anything to do with it? Was she too frightened of stepping off that path, even if she’d been tasked with this venture?
Behind them, the Guards groaned and rose, readying to attack again.
“Blair!” Lorkan’s growled.
Panic gripped Blair like shackles dangling at each of her limbs, and she conjured a danu to the first place that came to mind. A foolish, risky move, but Blair had some inkling of a plan.
Maybe.
Winds whirled above the snow-covered street. Reality shimmered, and a new street, cobblestones sleek with rain, awaited them. Rook dove through Blair’s danu first, and together, Blair and Lorkan jumped after.
The impact broke their clasped hands apart. Blair rolled onto the familiar street, more pain pulsing around her head.
Above, her danu closed, shutting out the cries of the Guards left behind.
Lorkan blinked. Stars shone through the cloudless night sky. Leaves rustled on shaky branches. Autumn sat in the air, not winter.
“Blair, where are we?” Lorkan asked, wiping dirt from his shirt.
His voice came far away, and warmth coated Blair’s lips. She touched them with the pads of her fingers, wiping away crimson. Goddess, she’d given herself a bloody nose.
She’d drawn up to much magic. She wavered foot to foot as she tried to stand. Her knees rebelled and gave out. Lorkan launched forward, catching her in his arms as she collapsed from exhaustion.
White dots filtered across her vision, blocking out his beautiful face.
Lorkan searched wildly. Up and down the street.
“35, 36, 37 . . .” He rattled off the numbered homes like he knew them. His stare widened at the wooden bones that lay in a crumbled heap ahead of them, number 38 missing.
“What have you done?” he rasped.
For they’d not traveled to Fika.
Blair had created a danu to Nūa, the city of witches.