Total pages in book: 200
Estimated words: 189930 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 950(@200wpm)___ 760(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 189930 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 950(@200wpm)___ 760(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
I couldn’t look away. “I promise. I won’t forget.”
Chapter 34
Some hours later, a noise stirred me from sleep. I was on my side, and a long, warm body was wrapped around mine. One leg was thrust between my thighs, and I was tangled in arms. Although I was still half-asleep, every part of me immediately became aware of the unfamiliar sensations of being in someone’s hold. The feeling of skin against skin, the rough, short hairs against my flesh, the biceps under my head, and the warm breath glancing off my cheek. All of it was wonderful and new. Even with the cobwebs of sleep still clouding my thoughts, I knew this feeling wouldn’t be something easy to walk away from.
The last thing I remembered was lying facing Hawke, him toying with my hair while he told me how he’d gotten some of his smaller scars. Most of them had been earned through fighting, though a few were from when he was a reckless, adventurous child. I’d meant to share with him the truth about some of mine, but I must’ve drifted off.
Hawke shifted behind me, lifting his head as the sound came again. It was a soft knock on the door. Carefully, he slipped his leg out from between mine. He stilled for a second, and then I felt his fingertips on my arm. They coasted down and then over the flare of my hip to where the blanket lay. He tugged it up over my chest as he eased himself free, making sure the pillow had replaced his arm under my head. A sleepy, pleased smile tugged at my lips.
The bed dipped as he rose, and I heard him stop by the foot of the bed. I blinked open my eyes. One of the oil lamps still burned, casting a soft buttery glow around the room. It was still pitch-black beyond the small window, though I saw Hawke straighten as he pulled on his breeches, leaving them unbuttoned. My stomach dipped at the sight. He went to the door like that, shirtless and half-undressed. Wouldn’t that make it obvious to whoever was out there what had transpired in here?
I waited for the panic to set in, the concern and fear of being discovered in a very compromising, forbidden position.
It didn’t come.
Maybe it was because I was still only half-awake. Perhaps the pleasant languidness in my muscles had somehow infiltrated my brain and melted my common sense.
Maybe I just didn’t care about being caught.
Hawke cracked open the door, and whoever was outside spoke too low for me to hear. I didn’t pick up Hawke’s response, but I saw that he accepted something he had been handed. He was only at the door for a couple of moments before he closed it again, placing whatever he carried on the chair.
Seeing that I was awake, he came to my side. Wordlessly, he reached down, catching a strand of hair and brushing it back from my face.
“Hi,” I whispered, closing my eyes as I pressed my cheek to his palm. “Is it time to get up?”
“No.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Everything is fine. I just need to go handle something,” he answered. I opened my eyes. He stared down at me as he dragged his thumb across my cheek, just under the scar. “You don’t need to get up yet.”
“Are you sure?” I yawned.
A faint grin appeared. “I am, Princess. Sleep.” He tucked the blanket around me once more and then rose. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
I wanted to say something, somehow acknowledge what had transpired between us, and what it meant to me, but I wasn’t sure how to say it, and my eyes were getting heavy. I fell back to sleep, but I didn’t stay there long. I woke for a second time, the lamp still burning, and the bed empty beside me.
Stretching my limbs, I pressed my lips together at the strange, dull ache between my legs. I didn’t need the reminder of last night, but there it was. I glanced around the room, my gaze snagging on the chair. My clothing was folded there. Had it been Magda who’d come to the door? Or someone else? Either way, whoever it was, the state of undress in which Hawke had answered the door revealed everything.
I bit down on my lip as I lay there, staring at the small window. Like before, there was no panic or dread. People talked. One way or another, what had happened here would travel beyond the cobblestone streets. It would eventually make its way to the capital, and then to the Queen. Even if by some small chance it didn’t, the gods had to know that I was no longer an actual maiden. Whether or not that meant I was still the Maiden in their eyes, I had no idea.