Lone Prince (Royally Unexpected #7) - Lilian Monroe Page 0,6
Her skin so frozen it’s almost transparent. She looks like some sort of ethereal ice goddess.
What the hell is she doing walking to the Summer Palace in this weather?
A protective instinct flares inside my chest. I nod to the back seat. “In here,” I say.
“I can put her up front,” Eyvar says. The back seat is reserved for me.
I shake my head. “Lay her down there. I’ll try to wake her up. Grab her bag.”
Eyvar grunts, his eyes lingering on mine. He doesn’t approve. I don’t give a shit.
Why don’t I give a shit?
I’m not some Good Samaritan out to save some moron who decided to take a walk along the Arctic Circle. Does she have a death wish? As far as I’m concerned, this woman deserves to freeze. Where was she headed, anyway? The castle? With a fucking roller suitcase?
After Eyvar puts her in the car, I slip into the back seat and lift her head onto my thighs. Her skin feels like ice, but there are soft breaths passing through her lips. I close the door again, thanking everything that’s holy for heated seats.
Unwinding the woman’s scarf from her head, I toss it aside. It’s half-frozen-stiff and half-soaked with melted snow. She’s wearing a second scarf underneath, soaked in sweat. Her hat is the same. If she’s hypothermic, those garments will only make it worse.
She needs to get warm and dry. Fast.
Eyvar hauls her suitcase over, slams the trunk, and gets in the front seat. My bodyguard glances at me in the rearview mirror. I jerk my head at the gate. “To the security lodge. It’s closer, and it’ll be easier to warm up a small room. We don’t have much time.”
“You know her?” His eyes narrow, flicking to the woman in my lap.
I bristle. I don’t like his tone. Maybe my employees are getting a little too comfortable with me. No matter how close we are, Eyvar still works for me. I’m his liege. He should act accordingly.
“Drive, Eyvar.” I don’t owe him a fucking answer. I don’t owe anyone anything.
There’s a hole in my heart and poison leeching into my soul. When Abby died, she took part of me with her—and it was just like this. Head in my lap, eyes closed, the Reaper stealing her away from me in a few short breaths.
I belong here, alone in the frozen north. Surrounded by cold and death. The lord of a castle made of ice, with no one to answer to but the elements. This is my home.
But my hand moves to the woman’s cheek, and I feel the silkiness of her skin. She doesn’t belong here. She’s too soft. Too fragile.
And unlike Abby, this woman is still alive.
Eyvar sets his jaw and puts the car in gear. He cranks the heat up as high as it’ll go, and I unzip the top of the woman’s jacket. The skin on her chest is so cold, she might as well have been walking naked out here.
My eyes drift down her body, imagining just that. I bite down on the inside of my cheek to dispel the thought. The last fucking thing I need to do is think about this woman naked. As soon as she’s awake and alert enough to speak, she has a lot to answer for. She’ll be getting on the first train back to whatever place she’s from, with strict instructions to never return.
If she has a death wish, it won’t be fulfilled here. I won’t have another soul on my conscience.
Eyvar parks the car by the security lodge. I jerk my head toward it. “Unlock the door and crank the heat. Start a fire, too.”
Eyvar’s teeth grind. He doesn’t like me being near an uncleared person. It’s a security risk, and he knows my head is a mess right now. Isn’t that the whole reason I’m at the Summer Palace? Keep me safe from the media and the masses and myself? Stay tucked away on my own, where no one can see me break down?
My tone of voice leaves no room for argument, though, and Eyvar is too well-trained to protest. He heaves his massive body out of the car and unlocks the lodge as I get out of the car and carry the woman to the building.
She’s light, as if I’m just holding a bundle of clothes. Her legs are covered in nothing more than a pair of thick tights, which is about three layers less than she needs out here.