CHAPTER 20
“I’m back,” Reagan murmured, matching the tone of my voice, as though trying to gauge what I wanted. “I live here.”
By the look on Cerridwen’s face, I thought she might smother him for the audacity to tease when we all thought he might die.
My gaze was drawn to his clothes, dirty and covered in soot. His sturdy brown trousers were scuffed, and his once-white shirt, now smudged and grey, was ruffled and rolled several times over his elbows. The collar was open at the first two buttons, revealing a smooth, slightly paler chest beneath.
I scanned him for injuries, but there were no visible wounds. He just stood there, his hand falling from the glass he’d just rested on the trolley laden with bottles. There was a faint, almost imperceptible hint of surprise in his eyes.
“She knows,” Gwin spat. “But like us, Red also thought you would show up dead.”
He didn’t answer her. My eyes stopped at the shadow beneath his collar, where a bloodstain marked the shirt. Is it his blood?
My legs moved instinctively but froze mid-step as my gaze darted back to the room. The staff members were scrutinising Reagan. Only Cerridwen scanned me, brows raised.
“Good. He’s alive then,” I said, willing my voice to sound indifferent. Without waiting for a reply, I turned away. “Good night.”
No one answered me. Cerridwen’s expression remained bewildered as I walked out of the room, lumbering toward the staircase, wishing I’d waited to hear his voice instead of barging in.
I let out a silent breath.
He was fine. Alive.
As if in response to my thoughts, the stiffness in my shoulders loosened. The tension from the past few days ebbed, though not all of my worries faded.
The murmurs of their conversation reached me as I hesitated at the top of the stairs, but they were too low to make out.
I continued until I reached my room, stopping just outside the door. Thoughts crossed my mind—thoughts I tried to push away. A different reason for my breath to quicken. Another explanation for my slackened mouth and the urge to go back.
Leaning against the opposite wall, I took a deep breath.
Relax. Just bloody relax.
I’d think about this tomorrow. Tonight, I was too tired to make sense of anything. Too on edge.
Movement to my side caught my attention, and I jerked upright.
Reagan stood at the end of the hallway and began moving toward me.
My heartbeat surged again under the weight of his intense gaze and the unspoken questions behind it.
He stopped between my bedroom door and me. A shadow of stubble lined his jaw, probably from days without shaving, and dark circles hung under his eyes.
It seemed like he didn’t know what to say either, or he was waiting for me to speak, because he stepped back, leaning against the door of my bedroom. His hands rested in front of his body, fingers folding and stretching.
I went to speak, but nothing came out. My eyes roamed the hallway, and a strange, restless flutter stirred in my stomach.
There was no reason for him to be here. This was not the way to his chambers. And it was the middle of the night.
Straightening, I peeled my back off the wall. “Good to see that you’re fine.”
His forehead creased. Reagan stepped away from the door, the handsome planes of his face illuminated by the candle sconces. The woody scent of the forest reached me when he stopped a breath away, and I inhaled.
“Do you want me here?” His voice was rough, rougher than in the dining room.
I didn’t know if he meant in Mountheim Hall or in this hallway, and I didn’t ask. My gaze lowered to his chest.
“Yes. Everyone was worried about you.”
“Even you?”
I paused, warmth sweeping through me. Instead of answering, I lifted a hand to his collar, where blood stained it. “Whose blood is this?”
He cocked his head. “A very unlucky creature.”
I swallowed, the sensation catching in my throat. As if moved by its own accord, my hand slipped from his collar, brushing against the bare skin of his chest. Warm, firm. Reagan didn’t move.
The last time I let myself touch him like this was in the Pool of Quintessence. The need I felt then surged through me just as strongly now, at the scent of him, at the sheer feel of him. And I knew I wanted this.
“I was worried,” I said, my voice more breath than sound, my gaze lifting to meet his.
Reagan’s eyes gleamed, his head dipping until he was just an inch away. With one swift hand cradling the back of my neck, he pressed our mouths together, stealing the breath from my lungs.
So damn quickly, I lost myself in his kiss, as if every thought had fled. He seemed just as eager as I was because his lips were soon tracing a path along my jaw and down my neck. My breath turned ragged at the feel of his mouth.
“Will you let me stay?” he asked, hot breath against my skin. “I promise to be gentle with you.”
His hand glided lower, gripping the curve of my bottom, our bodies pressed flush.
Reagan didn’t just kiss—he tasted my neck. His arms slid under my legs, lifting me until I curled them around his waist.
I didn’t know what I was doing. I shouldn’t let this happen again, shouldn’t let myself get this close.
He turned to the bedroom door, reaching for the knob. My heart raced, uncertainty surging hot and fast.
“Wait,” I said, gripping his shoulders, my breath hitching in my throat.
He froze mid-motion, his posture stiffening before he leaned back to look at me.
“Why? You don’t want this?” His brows pitched together, just barely.
“I can’t,” I said, stretching one leg, and Reagan set me down.
His gaze fell to the floor as I adjusted my nightgown, my lips raw. I focused on slowing my breathing, forcing the pounding in my chest to quiet as I tried to gauge his expression.
He averted his eyes, chest lifting with heavy breaths. His hand raked through his hair.
I wished I’d thought about it before. Wished my heart hadn’t leapt as though it would burst out of my chest if we went through with this. I was on edge and not thinking, yet the words to explain it wouldn’t come.
“You’re right,” he finally said, meeting my eyes again, hands resting on his waist. “We shouldn’t do this if you’re still unsure.
If you can’t see what your instincts are telling you because you’re too afraid of making a mistake.
So I’ll wait. Until you’re ready to make up your mind, because I know what your decision will be. ”
Without waiting, he turned around and flung out of the corridor.