“Truly? Then, what color are my eyes?”
Cenric’s gaze flicks up to meet mine. “Blue. Like the sky before twilight.”
Well, damn.
That was oddly specific.
“That was a lucky guess,” I say, even though he was looking right at me.
He leans closer. “I don’t guess, Everly. I observe.”
“Oh? And what else have you observed?”
A slow smile spreads across his face. It makes his eyes twinkle and his features soften. “That you bite your lip when you’re nervous. Like you’re doing right now.”
I immediately release my lower lip from between my teeth. “I’m not nervous. I’m contemplating.”
“Contemplating what?”
“How long it will take before you let me go to sleep.”
Cenric backs up slightly, his warmth receding with him. “You can go to sleep right now.”
I shift, trying to find a comfortable position. Theblanket rustles, loud as thunder in the quiet. A peek reveals Cenric still watching me. My skin prickles with awareness, and I curl my toes, fighting the desire to stretch out and brush against him.
Instead, I roll onto my side, facing away from him. But even with my back turned, I feel the weight of his gaze.
I force my breathing to slow, trying to mimic the rhythm of sleep. In, out. In, out.
The bed shifts as Cenric moves. I tense, wondering if he’s coming closer or moving away. The suspense is maddening. I want to turn and look, but that would give away my wakefulness.
So, I lie there, caught between anticipation and dread.
Chapter
Fifty-Two
CENRIC
At the firstcrack of dawn, I climb from the bed, needing distance, needing a damn dip in the lake to shock some sense into me. Maybe the icy plunge would make me forget the tempting warmth of Everly’s body next to mine through the night.
I dress quickly, donning my armor and cloak, then glance back at Everly. She looks so peaceful, one hand resting beneath her head, the other clutching a carved wooden fox.
Last night had been torture. I am a fool to think I could share a tent with her without wanting her, without longing to reach across the space between us and bring her into my arms.
I draw in a quick breath before approaching her and touching her shoulder. “Everly.”
She stirs, long lashes fluttering open to reveal her eyes, still clouded with sleep.
“We need to get moving,” I tell her. “Get dressed.”
I take in the sight of her—hair mussed from sleep, a slight flush to her cheeks. My fingers tingle with the desire to reach out, to brush back the unruly curls from her face, to let my fingers linger on her skin.
She blinks up at me, her eyes slowly focusing, and I’m struck by how blue they are in the dim light of the tent. I could lose myself in those eyes.
“Cenric?” she says, her voice husky with sleep.
“Get dressed,” I repeat, more gruffly than I intend. “We have a lot to do today.”
