‘You can leave,’ Lachlan told Bryce flatly.
Bryce’s eyes narrowed. ‘Fine,’ he said after a moment. ‘But you best believe I’ll be checking in on you tomorrow, lad. Make sure you haven’t become a beastie snack.’
Cam nearly snorted. If Bryce only knew the half of it. He had no problem with Lachlan making a snack of him.
He managed a curt nod instead, though it sent sparks racing along his jaw. ‘See you tomorrow, then.’
Bryce was clearly reluctant to leave. His gaze hadn’t wavered from Lachlan, and he remained wary even as he bent to retrieve his crossbow. He cast Cam a final, doubtful glance, before walking back into the darkness of the trees.
‘Can you stand?’ Lachlan asked softly in Cam’s ear.
Cam swallowed thickly. His throat felt swollen.
‘No,’ he admitted. ‘Honestly I feel pretty fucked.’
Lachlan kissed his hair. ‘You’re going to be okay.’
Cam’s eyes squeezed shut involuntarily, suddenly pricking with tears. Shit. Had anyone ever told him that before? That he was going to be okay?
That he just might pull through the clusterfuck of inherited misfortune that fate apparently had in store for him? Not even his parents had tried to lie about it.
But Lachlan said he was going to be okay, and he hated that Lachlan made him believe it, just a little bit.
Lachlan had shifted position. Cam felt his lean, muscled arms hooked around him—one at his back and one under his knees. In a motion that was ludicrously effortless Lachlan simply stood up, lifting Cam like he weighed no more than a bag of sugar.
He picked a careful path through the dark, taking care not to jostle Cam or catch his feet on errant branches. Cam tucked his head against Lachlan’s shoulder, one arm looped around his neck. It was only when they were halfway up the hill, and he heard the soft crunch of deeper snow, that he remembered Lachlan was walking barefoot. The man must befreezing.
But if he was, he didn’t show it at all. As he strode onward, the thin moonlight highlighting his gentle, determined features, Lachlan was the sheer definition of stoic resolve.
‘God, I love you,’ Cam murmured, not truly registering the words slipping from his tongue.
Lachlan’s eyes slid to his. Something like pain creased his brow, just for a second, then was gone.
Before long, they were inside The Lucky Teapot. Lachlan swiftly carried Cam upstairs and laid him on the narrow single bed.
‘You’re shivering,’ Lachlan said, beginning to strip Cam of his clothes.
‘I can do it,’ Cam protested, trying to brush his hands away. But his limbs were weak and his fingers fumbled at the toggles on his coat. In the end he had no choice but to relent and allow Lachlan to ease him out of each wet layer.
‘How does your face feel?’ Lachlan asked, stroking his temple.
It seemed like an odd question, and Cam guessed he looked more beat up than he realised. He attempted a smile. ‘Feels fine. It’ll heal.’
Lachlan frowned, tracing over his right eyebrow. ‘And your eyesight? Can you see well enough?’
‘Yeah…’ Was his eye bloodshot? It did feel strained. Cam shook his head, remembering the talisman still sat against his skin. ‘Hang on, can you put this somewhere safe?’
Lachlan lifted the amulet from around his neck and placed it atop the lone chest of drawers on the other side of the room. Cam blinked a few times, irritated by something subtly wrong in his vision. Hell, he hoped he hadn’t detached a retina or something.
He shuffled under the covers as Lachlan came to sit on the mattress beside him, and then it clicked.
‘You’re still glowing,’ Cam said thickly.
‘What?’ Lachlan looked down at himself, baffled.
‘The trace magic. I can still see it on you.’
It had grown fainter since Lachlan’s transformation, but it was still discernible, criss-crossing his body in a flowing, pinkish sheen of luminescence.
