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4
Rowan
Warmth tinglesover my skin as I blink my eyes open. A face looms in front of mine, an older man with a thick, white mustache.
“Miss Reed,” he says, his voice pinched, yet friendly. “You’re awake.” I try to sit up, when the man puts his hand on my shoulder. “My name is Doctor Williams. You were found on the road leading to the Summer Palace with severe hypothermia. You were brought here. We’ve given you warm intravenous fluids and warmed your body temperature up. Please rest.”
I lie back on the sofa, suddenly keenly aware that I’m not wearing any clothing. My fingers brush against my thighs as my heart leaps in my chest, and I feel the edge of my underwear around my hips. But when my hand drifts higher…
Oh, shit.
I’m not wearing a bra. My breath catches as discomfort races through me.
At least I have undies on. I’m not completely naked.
Blinking, I look from the doctor to the roaring fire. Dr. Williams shoves a side table closer, where a steaming mug of tea sits waiting. I nod in thanks.
Then, movement.
My eyes are drawn to the edge of the room and I notice him for the first time. I suck in a breath, eyes widening.
I’ve seen those amber eyes in photos before. The soft curls of black hair. The sharp jaw and dark brow.
The Prince.
“I…I…” I stammer, then stop. Why is Prince Wolfe here? And why is he staring at me like he wants to sink his teeth into my neck and rip it to shreds?
And I’m nearly freaking naked.
I’ve never seen anger like that before. He might as well be a predator, stalking his prey in the dead of night. He watches me, analyzing every movement with those fiery eyes the color of honey.
His hands are interlaced under his chin, elbows resting on his knees. Even seated, I can tell he’s tall. Powerful. It’s the way his limbs fold on each other, all graceful muscle and coiled power. The width of him almost obscures the armchair he’s sitting in, as if the furniture in here is just a bit too small to hold him.
He stares at me, unmoving.
Is he the one who found me? Has he seen me naked? Oh my goodness. Oh God. No. I take a breath, trying to sit up. The doctor makes a noise and puts his hand on my shoulder again.
“Rest, Miss Reed.”
“I’m fine,” I croak, eyes drawn to the Prince once more.
He shifts in the chair, leaning back. He props his head in his hand, keeping his eyes on me. I crawl up on the sofa, keeping my arms clamped over my chest to hold the blanket against my skin. I wish I had a shirt on.
The fire crackles. The doctor rummages somewhere behind me. Wind howls outside, banging against the shutters.
But none of it matters.
The Prince is here.
And he’s angry.
Why does that make my insides feel warm? Why are my thighs clenching at the way his eyes sweep over me?
“Do you know where you are?” he says slowly, his voice rippling across the distance between us. It’s warm, with harsh edges that make every nerve in my body bristle with warning.
This man is dangerous.
I nod. “At the Summer Palace in Nord.”
