Page 25 of The Wolf and Her Shadows

I laugh softly, unable to help myself. “You and your never-ending apologies, Vannaria.” Patting the bed next to me, I smile softly at her. “Now, come eat before your food gets cold. Take advantage of not having to cook while you can.”

Her own gentle smile returns, and she obediently lowers herself onto the mattress beside me.

As we begin eating, the courtesan glances between us and whispers, “You both are lucky women.” Then she folds herself onto the chair in the corner of the room and proceeds to tell us everything she’d already overheard before coming upstairs.

“I’m glad it was only a few city guards, and not a group of mercenaries as I’d feared,” Vannaria mutters, beginning to rid herself of her armor.

Forcing myself to focus on removing my own newly acquired armor, I nod. “You’re right. At first I’d thought Ashana had somehow followed us here. And had brought friends.”

“As did I.” She lets out another sigh, the number ever-increasing the longer our previous conversation with the courtesan had gone on. “At least Gwen had been kind enough to not only alleviate our fears but also help spread false information. She earned every bit of extra coin I gave her. I only wish I could have offered her more.”

“Well, there’s still time.” I chuckle, cheeks already beginning to feel warm. “I’m sure she’d accept more than just coin. Her pout when you turned down her offer for the third time was rather impressive.”

Glancing over my shoulder, I see Vannaria shaking her head as she bends to remove her boots. “I’m sure she would. But, the coin I gave her is sufficient enough. I have no doubt she can easily find another bed to warm for the night.” She lifts her gaze, finding mine instantly. “I made a promise, and I intend to keep it.”

Fighting back a smile, I roll my eyes. “You could have just as easily done both.”

Resting the boot next to its mate beside the bed, she gives me a strange look, then whispers, “I’m content with the choice I made. I’d rather spend my night holding you than having frivolous sex with a stranger.”

My breath escapes me in a rush at her quiet confession. Not trusting myself if I continue looking into her eyes, I lower my gaze down to the soft leather in my hands. After a moment, I take a shaky breath and mutter, “Seems we’re of the same mind then.”

“Do you wish it had been me?” Vannaria quietly asks, proving yet again how much braver she is than I.

Unable to answer her with words, I squeeze my eyes shut and dip my head in a faint nod. I expect her to say more. Ask more. Or perhaps even cross the room and touch me in some way. And yet, she does none of those. My confession is left to linger in the air while we both continue undressing.

Once I’ve slipped on the loose sleeping clothing Vannaria had purchased, I finally force myself to turn around and face her. Instantly regretting it, I have to choke back a gasp, my mouth immediately going dry. Instead of changing into sleeping clothes, Vannaria is already sprawled out on the large bed wearing nothing but a pair of tight cotton shorts and a thin strip of fabric wrapped around her chest.

Which leaves every bit of muscle I’ve spent days fantasizing about on full display.

The small scars on her face aren’t the only ones she has either. There are several larger ones covering a good bit of her toned form. All proof of a lifetime of battles fought and likely won. Most aren’t the type of scars someone would receive from a mere drunken bar brawl either. No, they look like the wounds I’d been riddled with after our encounter with the Drithgal.

The ones I’d have likely died from had Vannaria not given me a healing tonic. Even if I’d lived, my body would now be just as scarred as hers is. Yet I doubt my scars would make me as ridiculous attractive as hers do.

I take a step toward the bed, my eyes slowly drifting back to Vannaria’s face. Even though she clearly knows I’d been gawking at her, there’s no trace of the teasing smirk I expect to see. In its place is the same soft smile she’d worn earlier. When I’d first woken up with her arms around me. Those same arms she holds open for me now.

Unwilling to risk doing anything to ruin this moment, I simply allow myself to fall into them, relishing the feel of her soft skin as I wrap my arm around her. When I rest my head back on her chest, my eyes fall closed of their own accord, her steady heartbeat instantly luring me into an increasingly familiar sense of comfort.

She tugs a blanket over us both before wrapping her arms around me, holding me against her chest and silently letting me know she’ll protect me as I sleep.

As I begin to slowly drift off, I snuggle closer, tucking my face into her neck and mumbling, “I’m glad to have met you, Vannaria.”

A soft kiss on the top of my head is the last thing I feel before falling into a deep sleep.

The next morning, neither of us speak of the events of the previous day. Or of the confessions whispered softly in the dark of night. Our new friend, Gwen, invites us down to share a quick bit of breakfast with her, making sure to lead us to a table tucked into the furthest corner and shielded from view of the doorway by a small staircase. After yet another generous tip from Vannaria, we bid goodbye to the blonde courtesan and make our way to the stables at the back of the building.

When we enter the large barn, our horse is already ready and waiting for us, wearing a brand new set of tack. Judging by the shocked look on her face, Vannaria hadn’t been the one to acquire the new equipment.

Holding the reins out to Vannaria, the androgynous stablehand winks. “Courtesy of The Mistress. She said to tell you both safe travels and that if you ever find yourselves back in Drixton, you’ll always have a friend and a warm bed here at her establishment.”

Vannaria and I exchange identical looks of shock, and at the same time ask, “The Mistress?”

The stablehand simply smiles, offering no further explanation.

After a moment, Vannaria shrugs and accepts the reins from them. “Well, tell you Mistress she has my sincerest gratitude. And that I offer her yet another apology for turning her down last night. And this morning.”

“Yes ma’am.” Smiling wider, the stablehand nods towards our horse. “Fine animal you have there. I packed a bit of grain in a spare saddle bag for him as well.”

“Thank you,” I say, stepping up next to Vannaria.