“You hate discomfort.”
“I would hate it more if you were on the floor.” His eyes heat, and this time, I can’t look away.
“Th-thank you,” I say lamely, wishing I knew how to act and had his confidence.
He shakes himself, looking away at last. “Ah, see? There’s an extra quilt. It’ll be fine. I’ll see the innkeeper and fetch us an extra bowl and linen for washing. You go ahead, and I’ll knock before I come back in.”
Suddenly, I wish for the courage to try out a relationship with him. A romantic relationship. What if I could face the idea of being broken into a thousand pieces when he leaves me? Would being with him be worth that risk? He would always be at least my friend. We could go back to watching one another’s romances. Well, I never have any, but I would see his and…
A shiver rocks me.
No, I can’t handle it.
In fact, I’m already unsure how I will react when he’s cozying up to someone in town. I was fine with it before this baking project. A sigh flutters out of me and I try to let it go, that want I feel for him, that incredible pull toward his scent, his arms, his voice. To his smile and his easy way of living in the world.
After taking off my traveling boots and stockings, I remove my apron and dress and hang them on a hook by one of the windows to air out. In my shift, bralette, and silk shorts, I wash my face with bracingly chill water and attempt to clear my thoughts. The lavender scented soap lathers between my hands, and the drying cloth is incredibly soft. I tuck myself into bed, feeling shy about only wearing my shift, when Cyrus knocks lightly.
“Come in,” I say, my voice cracking.
Why, oh why did I agree to his idea of joining me on this trip?
Chapter 22
Kaya
With another folded linen and a bowl in his hands, Cyrus enters. He uses his tail to shut the door behind him. At least he isn’t looking over here. I attempt regular breathing, but I’m a failure.
Especially when he strips off his tunic and proceeds to wash his face and hands while only wearing his trousers and boots.
Muscles tense and relax in turn as he cleans the road dust away. The curve of his lower back is partially hidden by his wings, but I can see enough to realize he has a finer arse than I had realized. I bite my lip and roll over so my back is to him.
“Want me to stoke the fire?” His voice rumbles through the room, and I shut my eyes to savor the sound of it. “I’m warm enough, but I don’t mind at all if you’re cold.”
“No, I’m all right.”
I hear him remove his boots and I sit up to take the pins out of my hair. I don’t like sleeping with the little things jabbing me in the scalp.
“Ow!” One of the double pins is snarled in a tangle.
Cyrus’s footsteps thump lightly behind me. “Want some help?”
“Sure. Thanks. Yes.”
He comes close, and I try to keep from showing how much his nearness affects me. He sets one hand on the side of my head. His palm is almost hot and I have to fight not to lean into the touch. His other hand deftly detaches the pin, and then he hands it to me. I turn to face him. With those powerful features of his and that glint in his eye, he could charm the clothes off anyone.
“Thank you. Good night!” I say a little awkwardly, my words tripping over one another. I snuggle under the quilt and shut my eyes before I can do anything else odd.
Cyrus’s chuckle is so faint that I wonder if I imagine it. I hear him shuffling about and getting comfortable on the floor.
“Will you tell me about how you ended up in Leafshire Cove?” he asks. “If you’re not too tired and feel like sharing?”
“It’s not that much of a story.”
“I’d still like to hear it, to know how you ended up there.”
I open my eyes to see him on his side, facing me, propped up on one elbow. He is surrounded by pillows and has at least five stuffed under him like a makeshift mattress. His quilt is draped over his narrow hips, leaving his torso bare. The muscled lines leading from his chest to his waist have me drooling. I lick my lips and roll to my back to look at the ceiling instead. The beams above have leaves and stars painted on them in shades of green and gold.
“My parents weren’t the best, to be honest,” I say.
