Elena had never felt more aware of anything in her life.
Not the cold. Not the saddle biting slightly into her thighs. Not even her ribs, which only days ago felt like glass.
No—her entire consciousness was occupied by:
1. The heat of the man pressed against her back.
2. The steady, slow grind of his breathing.
3. The very undeniable hardness that still rested against her lower spine… and was not going away.
She tried to focus on the scenery.
The trees were… treeing.The snow was… snowy.The Sentinels rode ahead like a terrifying Abercrombie catalogue.
It did not help.
Especially not when the horse jolted forward over a patch of uneven ground.
Soren's grip tightened around her instantly, pulling her closer into him to steady her.
She sucked in a breath.
His voice brushed the back of her neck.
"Careful," he murmured. "I need you whole."
Whole. Okay. Totally fine. Definitely not combusting.
"I'm—I'm fine," she lied.
"You are shaking."
"That's… unrelated."
He huffed a quiet laugh against her hair. A low, deep sound that traveled all the way down her body.
"Is it," he said, not asking.
She stared straight ahead, desperate for a distraction.
"What about—" she squeaked when another shift of his hips pressed him more firmly against her, "—the Sentinels? They can see us."
"They are not looking," Soren said.
"How do you know?"
"Because if they were," his voice dropped, "I would make them stop."
She shut her eyes.
Nope. Nope. Absolutely not thinking about that.
The wind picked up, cold and sharp, but wrapped in him, she barely felt it. His cloak fell partly around her, swallowing her in the heat of him, in the scent of pine and steel and something darker.
"You're warm," she whispered before she could stop herself.
His lips curved against her ear.
"I told you before," he murmured, "I run hotter than most."
Understatement of the century.
She shifted slightly to relieve pressure from her ribs—
Which only pushed her more firmly back into him.
A soft sound escaped her throat. Humiliating. She hoped the horse would buck her off.
Soren's breath caught—barely audible.
"Elena," he warned softly.
"I didn't do anything!"
"You moved."
"You're blaming me for physics?!"
He exhaled one slow, dangerous breath that made her toes curl in her boots.
"Elena," he said, "if you move like that again, this ride will become… difficult."
She froze.
Her entire soul froze.
The horse took another step forward.
His arm tightened—to steady her. But also not just to steady her.
She swallowed. "This is the longest ride of my life."
"We have several hours left."
Great. Perfect. She would die. She would simply perish out of pure sexual tension.
He shifted again—deliberate this time. Testing. Watching her reaction.
Her breath stuttered.
Soren hummed. "Your breathing changed."
"No it didn't!"
"It did."
"It—maybe I'm cold!"
"You're flushed," he countered.
"You don't know that!"
He leaned in, lips brushing the shell of her ear without touching.
"I can feel it."
Her brain melted straight out of her skull.
The Sentinels rode ahead in perfect stoic silence, either unaware or politely pretending their commander was not flirting like a man one breath away from throwing someone onto the nearest flat surface.
After nearly an hour of internal screaming and his increasingly unbearable proximity, Elena finally spoke:
"Soren."
"Yes."
"We… can't ride like this forever."
"No," he agreed, voice low. "We can't."
The way he said it—
dangerous, certain, almost hungry—
sent a wave of heat through her entire body.
"But," he added, tugging her closer as the horse descended a slope, "until we reach the citadel, you stay here. In my hold."
"Because I'm injured?" she whispered.
Silence.
A beat.
Then—
"No," he said, voice rough velvet. "Because I want you here."
Her heart kicked so hard she thought he'd feel it.
She didn't dare answer.
Didn't dare breathe.
The citadel rooftops finally came into view over the rise.
Relief stirred in her chest.
But disappointment—shamefully, impossibly—curled beneath it.
Because once they dismounted, she would no longer be in his arms.
Soren felt her shift.
He lowered his mouth to her ear again.This time not teasing.
"Elena," he murmured, "we are not finished."
She stiffened. "Finished with what?"
"The conversation," he said darkly. "About the dungeon. About you disobeying me. About you nearly dying."
Her stomach dropped.
"Oh," she squeaked. "That conversation."
"Yes," he said, utterly calm. "That one."
The horse slowed as they reached the courtyard. Soren slid off first, then lifted her down as though she weighed nothing.
When her boots touched the ground, she swayed—his hands snapped back to her waist.
"You still lack balance," he said.
"That's because you—your—everything—my—" She flailed a hand vaguely. "Physics!"
He actually smiled at that.
But then his expression hardened.
"You will not wander alone again," he said.
"That sounds controlling."
"That sounds accurate."
Her jaw dropped. "You can't just decide that!"
He leaned in, eyes burning.
"You almost died, Elena. I will not apologize for wanting you alive."
Her heart thudded painfully.
"…oh."
"Yes," he said simply.