18. Chapter 18

eighteen

K allessa tossed and turned in the overly soft bed, sleep eluding her. The memory of Nevander’s kiss in the darkness of the hidden room played on repeat in her mind, his touch ghosting across her skin. Hours ago, she’d heard his door open and shut. He hadn’t returned.

A faint scratching noise from the other side of their adjoining door caught her attention. She held her breath, straining to listen.

Meow!

The plaintive cry tugged at her heart. It must be that little gray cat she’d seen with Nevander during his travels. The scratching intensified, accompanied by more urgent meowing. Kallessa bit her lip. If this kept up, the door would be damaged. But more importantly, the poor thing sounded distressed.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. Her nightgown whispered against her skin as she padded to the door.

Her hand hovered over the lock. Should she? What if Nevander returned and found her in his room? Heat crept up her neck at the thought. But he’d made it clear he wanted nothing to do with her, hadn’t he?

Another pitiful meow decided for her .

Kallessa turned the lock and pulled. The door swung open to reveal a dresser and two upholstered chairs haphazardly shoved against it. Her brow furrowed. Did he really think she’d try to break in? To do what—throw herself at him? The thought stung more than she cared to admit.

A flash of movement caught her eye. The cat was under the dresser, its claws tangled in what looked like a cravat. The more it struggled, the tighter it became ensnared.

Kallessa dropped to her hands and knees, the cold floor a shock against her skin. She wriggled partway under the dresser, arm outstretched. Her fingers barely grazed the silky fabric.

“Easy, little one,” she cooed. “I’m trying to help—”

Sharp claws raked across her knuckles. Kallessa jerked back with a hiss, examining the thin red lines on her skin.

“Blast it all,” she muttered. “I know you’re scared, but I’m on your side here.”

The cat’s mournful cries tugged at her heart. She couldn’t leave it like this. But if she tried Nevander’s main door, someone might see her. The scandal would be...

No. There was only one option.

Kallessa stood, eyeing the makeshift barricade. “Please, don’t let him come back now,” she whispered, then began to climb. She teetered atop the dresser for a moment before dropping to the other side with a soft thud.

Shoving the chairs aside, she knelt by the dresser once more. That’s when she realized the cravat was caught in the bottom drawer. Kallessa tugged, but it wouldn’t budge .

“How in the world did you manage this?” she asked the cat, who only yowled in response. “He left you behind, did he? Poor thing.” She sighed. “I know the feeling.”

Lying on her stomach, Kallessa shimmied partway under the dresser. The position was awkward, leaving her arms just barely free to work.

She placed one hand on the cat to keep it still, using the other to attack the knots. The silk was already in tatters. “I hope this wasn’t his favorite,” she muttered.

Just as she loosened the first tangle, needle-sharp claws dug into her knuckle. Kallessa yelped, instinctively jerking back. Her head connected with the underside of the dresser with a dull thunk.

“Ow! Blast it!” she hissed through clenched teeth. “Come on now, I’m trying to help, you little—”

The creak of the opening door cut her off mid-sentence. Kallessa froze, her heart leaping into her throat.

Nevander’s thoughts churned as he approached his suite. He didn’t want to return, but he couldn’t stand to linger in Castien’s room another moment.

He’d carried Castien back to his suite, and the slight weight of his drugged body still lingered in Nevander’s arms, a stark reminder of his friend’s frailty. He hated it.

On a night like this, only bad dreams awaited him.

His hand hesitated on the doorknob, indecision gripping him. A muffled curse from within froze him in place. Kallessa’s voice .

Heart racing, he flung the door open, hand instinctively flying to his dagger. The sight before him sent him stumbling back against the doorframe, a startled gasp escaping his lips.

Kallessa lay sprawled on her stomach, the upper half of her body hidden beneath his dresser—the very one he’d shoved against their adjoining doors to keep himself from invading her privacy. Now, the lower half of her body presented a vision that sent heat coursing through him.

Her pale ankles and slender feet contrasted sharply with the deep blue of her dressing gown, which had ridden up to reveal a tantalizing expanse of leg. Nevander’s gaze traveled the length of her body, lingering on her wiggling toes. He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry.

She stilled abruptly. “Nevander?” Her voice trembled, muffled by the dresser.

He shook himself, forcing his mind away from dangerous territory. “What are you doing?”

“Your cat. She’s—”

Of course. Akeela, the little troublemaker, had defied him yet again.

Kallessa’s rear wiggled once more, and Nevander bit back a groan. If she didn’t stop that, he’d have an entirely different problem on his hands.

“I’m stuck!” Her voice held a note of panic now.

Nevander snapped to attention. Couldn’t he get himself together long enough to help her? “Hold on,” he said, wrapping his hands around her ankles. The softness of her skin sent a jolt through him, but he pushed the sensation aside, focusing on the task at hand. He tugged gently, but she didn’t budge .

“Ow! Wait!” she cried. “My elbow is jammed under the leg.”

Nevander quickly shoved the chairs out of the way. “If I lift the dresser, can you slide out?”

“I’m not sure,” she mumbled, her voice tinged with embarrassment. “This is mortifying.”

He lay down beside her, acutely aware of her body heat bleeding through his thin shirt. It felt glorious, tempting him to fling the dresser aside and pull her into his arms. But he steeled himself, reaching past her to grasp at Akeela.

The cat, of course, had wedged herself into the farthest corner. Nevander stretched, feeling his shirt rip across the shoulder. Finally, his fingers closed around fur and fabric. He carefully untangled them all, then pulled back and shoved the dresser aside.

Kallessa sat up, cradling Akeela in her arms. A shredded green cravat hung from the cat’s claws. Kallessa’s carefully braided hair was now peppered with dust and cat fur. She handed Akeela to Nevander and promptly began sneezing, the tiny sounds oddly endearing.

Nevander glared at the cat as he unwound what remained of his favorite cravat. “You little brat,” he muttered. “I leave you alone for a few hours, and this is what you do?”

Akeela ignored him, focusing instead on grooming a paw. Nevander set her down with a sigh and turned back to Kallessa.

His breath caught. Her dark gown was rumpled, clinging to her curves in a way that made his pulse quicken. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright. Golden lamp light bathed her in softness. But then he noticed the slight scratches on her hands, tiny beads of blood welling up .

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, gently taking her hands in his. The touch sent sparks through him, and he saw her eyes widen slightly. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He guided her to a chair, shoving away the fact that she was in his room in the middle of the night. Dipping a linen cloth in the basin, he began to tenderly clean her wounds. She sat quietly, her body tense beneath his ministrations.

As he worked, Nevander found himself intensely aware of every detail: the softness of her skin, the slight tremble in her fingers, the way her breath hitched when he touched a particularly sensitive spot. The air between them seemed to thicken, charged with unspoken tension.

Suddenly, Kallessa gasped. Nevander’s eyes snapped to her face. “Did I hurt you?”

But her gaze wasn’t on their hands. It was fixed on his shoulder, where his torn shirt exposed a jagged scar. Her fingers reached out, hesitating just shy of touching him.

“Nevander,” she whispered. “What happened to you?”

She couldn’t stop staring at that angry pink scar marring the perfect tan flesh of his muscular shoulder.

Kallessa hadn’t dared to make eye contact with Nevander as he tended to her hands. She was so embarrassed, she wanted to crawl back under the dresser and hide forever. And the gentle touch of his calloused fingers against her skin sent a wave of conflicting emotions coursing through her body, tightening her throat and making her eyes water.

But a movement exposing the tear in his shirt had her glancing up. Now she was transfixed, her gaze riveted to the scar.

Nevander pulled back, attempting to close the gap in his shirt. But it was too late, the image was seared into her mind.

She flicked her gaze up, catching a glimpse of phantom shadows in his eyes before he looked down again, resuming his ministrations with forced casualness.

The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words. Finally, Nevander’s low voice broke through. “I told you I fought in the war, right?”

Kallessa nodded, studying his face. It was a carefully neutral mask, one she’d come to recognize as his shield against the world.

He swallowed, adam’s apple bobbing. “I was hit with a musket ball. Bloody thing tore right through me.”

The words tumbled from her lips before she could stop them. “May I touch it?”

Nevander’s head snapped up, startled. His brows furrowed, but after a moment’s hesitation, he murmured, “If you want.”

With trembling fingers, Kallessa pushed the torn linen aside. The scar looked angry, as if it still held the pain of that moment. She gingerly touched the flesh, finding it hot and oddly smooth beneath her fingertips. Nevander’s muscles twitched at her touch.

“Does it hurt?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“No,” he breathed, but the strain in his voice betrayed him.

“It must have been excruciating when it happened.”

His eyes darkened. “You have no idea. ”

In one fluid motion, Nevander grasped her hand, pulling it away from the scar. But instead of releasing her, he brought her fingers to his lips. Slowly, deliberately, he kissed each scratch across her skin. His warm breath sent shivers down her spine, igniting a fire low in her belly.

He glanced up through his lashes, and Kallessa’s heart nearly stopped. He looked like a fallen angel, torn between destruction and salvation, with disheveled golden hair and a rumpled shirt. This is what she would see every time she closed her eyes.

The air between them crackled with tension. Kallessa’s pulse raced, her skin hypersensitive to his every touch. She wanted to reach out, to trace those eyelashes with her fingertips, to—

Nevander abruptly stopped, gently resting her hands in her lap. The loss of contact felt startling, his warmth so suddenly removed.

“I’m very sorry about my naughty cat,” he said, his voice husky. “Akeela has a way of entangling herself in more than just cravats.”

Kallessa didn’t care about the cat or her scratched hands. All she could focus on was Nevander’s nearness, the heat radiating from his body. She bit her lip, feeling a flush creep up her neck and into her cheeks.

Nevander’s sharp intake of breath cut through the silence. His eyes, dark with an emotion Kallessa couldn’t quite name, locked onto her mouth. For a heartbeat, she thought he might kiss her.

Instead, he cleared his throat. “Shall I help you back to your room?” The words came out strained, as if it took all his willpower to offer.