richly upholstered settee, is a cramped-looking Eldas. His long legs are tucked against one end, knees hanging over the edge. A thin blanket I found in the back of my closet and had out as a complement to the lush velvet of the furniture is draped over him. It’s comically small, almost like the lanky man is using a napkin to keep warm.
Padding on light feet, I sneak back into the bedroom.
“Move, Hook,” I whisper and yank at the duvet folded at the foot of the bed. I haven’t needed it for warmth since Hook took up residence with me. “Move.”
He whines and relents.
I drag the blanket back to the main room. The fabric whispers over the carpet and Eldas stirs, muttering in his sleep. Gravity threatens to pull the duvet from my tired fingers, but I hold fast, waiting for him to settle once more. Carefully, I situate the blanket over him.
Eldas shifts slightly, but doesn’t wake. His eyes don’t open until a good hour later. I’m leaning back in my desk chair, journal in my lap, feet propped up against the desk as I stare intently, deep in thought. There’s something on the edge of my mind. Something I remember reading that connects with…
I hear him stir and glance over my shoulder. “Good morning,” I say.
“Good…” He blinks sleep from his eyes, rubbing them.
“Good?” I repeat with a small grin. Tired and slightly vulnerable is not a terrible sight to see first thing in the morning. The tangerine glow of the late dawn kisses his skin, making him look more man than ethereal creature of wild magic and death.
“Goodness…your hair.”
“What’s wrong with my hair?” I raise a hand to my yet-to-be-combed tresses, the grin slipping into a frown. The last time I even thought of my hair was when Luke commented on how he wanted it to be long again.
“It’s like fire in this light,” he murmurs.
“Fire head. Yes, I’ve heard it before.” I close the journal and sigh, dropping it on the desk harder than I intended. “All throughout grade school. Don’t make the fire head angry, smoke might come out of her ears. The fire head—”
“You look like a goddess,” Eldas amends. “I would not change a single thing about you, Luella.” My traitorous heart skips at his words. Then, as if remembering himself, he clears his throat and sits upright, the blanket pooling around his waist. “Where did this…”
“My bed. You looked cold this morning,” I answer the unfinished question. It seems Eldas has a hard time forming complete thoughts first thing in the morning, and there’s something surprisingly endearing about the fact.
“I’m used to the cold.” He chuckles darkly. “Ice king, they’ve called me.”
“Good thing you have a fire queen, then.” The words leave me before I can think through what exactly I’m saying. A flush rises to my cheeks.
“Oh, and why is that a good thing?” He stands, lips quirking slightly. I don’t answer, tongue heavy and gummy in my mouth as Eldas approaches. “Will you keep me warm?”
A single eyebrow arches and somehow that is what sets me aflame. I purse my lips together, trying to think of something witty to say. Trying to prevent my nerves from making me say something stupid. Trying not to remember the feeling of those smirking lips on mine.
I thought we had agreed, more or less, to not go down this route after some drunken missteps?
“I think I already did.” I point at the blanket that’s now on the floor.
“Oh, right.” He chuckles. “Of course.” Do I hear a note of disappointment in his voice? Surely I’m imagining it. Eldas studies my face as I will the blush to cool. “You’re flushed; do you have a fever again?”
“No, I’m fine.” I stand quickly, a little too quickly as the world sways. Eldas catches me with a steady hand.
“You’re not.”
“I am.” I touch the back of his hand lightly. I want to tell myself it’s just to reassure him. But, in truth, I want the shock that shoots from my fingertips straight into my chest whenever I touch him. I want the feeling of him there with me, in me. In me? My mind sputters.
“Let me take you back to bed.”
You’re not helping, Eldas! I want to shout. “Thank you, but I’ll be all right. I don’t need your help.” I fumble over my words, trying not to think of every implication he certainly doesn’t mean.
The trance is broken. As if realizing his hand was still on