Remy’s gaze swept over her and emotion bubbled inside of her. Their bodies met, unrestricted by clothing and hesitation. The feel of his skin entirely against hers was nearly a sensory overload, but that quickly passed when he lifted her towards the bed. Soft fabric caressed her back and she tugged him after her, unwilling to sever the connection they had established. The husky whisper of her name against the underside of her earlobe caused ripples of warmth to cascade through her. Madison did not fail to notice the tremble to his hand as it rested against her chest and she met his gaze through a cloud of need.
The moment of pause permitted her eyes to travel the entire length of his eager body. The prior warmth turned to a roaring inferno at the sight of him and she swallowed hard. Remy was as sculpted from fine marble, small scars littering his arms in shimmering silver. Two twisted knots of skin indicated his childhood gunshot wounds and, trailing her eyes upward once more, she took in the little scars along his thigh and hips. Exhaling with a shaky breath, his mouth found hers and coaxed her lips apart. Wanton thoughts raced around as pulses of cold fire hummed beneath the path of his hand until...
Madison’s mouth escaped his as she gasped in delicious surprise. Every tingling sensation of her skin coalesced into a knot between her hips. Startled eyes flickered to his, capturing his gaze as his fingers moved between her legs. Molten pleasure built inside of her at his strokes. She kept her eyes on his as long as she could until her toes curled and she has to close her eyes to savor the sensation. A gentle whimper slipped between her lips, followed by ardent murmurs of affirmation. Each second that passed, she knew that the tension building inside of her could not possibly grow any tighter. Yet, the doctor proved her wrong. The orchestra conducted by his fingers was a crescendo that would ultimately undo her. Hands tangled in the sateen sheets and her back arched upward into his palm. She never wanted it to end, decidedly willing to spend every moment of the rest of her life in bed with the love of her life.
The need to have him overwhelmed her and she released the fabric in favor of his hair. Enveloped by the smell of cedarwood and salt, she kissed him fervently. At first disappointment whipped through her when the coil at her core remained taut and his hand vanished. Leaning back onto the mattress, crystalline blue eyes searched his as he came to rest over her. Hovering in that quiet, heady moment, Madison knew there would never be anyone else for her. Remy was the other half of her broken soul and with every breath he took he mended her shattered fragments.
And then they were one, in a swift, perfect movement - reunited halves of the same whole. A flash of bright, stinging pain burst through her and her breath hitched, before slowly giving way to the low hum of pleasure he had coaxed to life inside of her. Hungry fingers explored the curves of his back, darting over hidden ink and down a moving spine. Madison matched her movements to his, finding his rhythm as the coil grew tight across her abdomen again. Mouths met and hands clasped and their bodies remained so close that they were a mere tangle of limbs. Time slowed around them as their explorations of love continued.
The center of her pleasure suddenly and finally snapped, a strand pulled too tightly by his caresses. The zenith rained down upon her, sparking alight every nerve in her body in a symphony of fulfillment. Madison’s back arched up into his chest, muscles drawn tight as her fingers dug slightly into his back. A breathy moan escaped her lips that tangled in his name. “Rem - Remy.” Gentle, rapturous waves washed over her, one after another as her back lowered down once more. A fog of satisfaction settled around her as he soon found the same sweet release she had. They lay there, joined, for a long shaking moment. Madison’s breath came in shallow inhalations as she kissed his shoulder, his neck, his ear.
Finally, legs trembled as they drew themselves reluctantly apart and Remy slid to lay at her side. Taking in the sight of him beside her, it pleased the Gallow girl that he looked just as spent, just as satisfied as she felt. Closing her eyes, everything loosened in a feline stretch before curling against him. She settled her head on his shoulder and her hand over his heart. The frantic beat was giving way to a deep, contented cadence beneath her fingers.
“That.” Madison attempted speech and failed, the first word coming out in a breathless exclamation. She laughed then, joy bubbling up out of her. Happiness gave way to contentment and her laughter dissolved into a soft hum. “That was...everything.” The words sounded stupid as they left her lips but how else could she adequately describe the mind-blowing perfection that their union had been. She had dreamed of it since the physician had mentioned erroneous zones in the span of a promise. Imaginings paled in comparison.
A slight nervous energy entered her chest but she attempted to push it aside. Blue eyes took in his spent form and a blush dappled her cheekbones. Even after all that, she found herself in awe of him. She took in everything about the moment, etching it into her memory forever. As she began to trace absent, blissful shapes on his chest, the huntress could only imagine what it would feel like to trace her finger along the silver mark across his lower hip. But she didn’t have to imagine anymore, did she? Reaching out, the soft tip of her middle finger followed the thin, pale scar. Remy’s skin quivered beneath her touch and she laughed softly again. “Sorry, I can’t seem to help myself around you.” Madison retrieved the closest covering she could and drew it over their lower halves. Turning, she propped herself on her elbows, lying on her stomach. “Is it wrong to say that I can see why people can’t keep their hands off each other in some of those books?” The mask of rosy skin remained present across her nose at her words. It was all she could do, in this moment, to stop herself from coaxing his inner fire back to life and taking him again. Madison had many new hobbies since stumbling upon the physician all those months ago. She enjoyed practicing sutures and learning anatomy. Reading was a passion she thoroughly planned to maintain for the rest of her life. Teaching the dogs and training them in new skillsets were cumbersome at first, but now a shared endeavor the pair appreciated. Now, though, she knew unwaveringly that she would trade all of that in order to make love to him at her leisure. Did he feel that way? Doubt snagged its terrible little claws into her mind. She had been so caught up in her own ecstasy that she hadn’t...she had just assumed...
“I want to say I know the answer but...was that....okay for you?” The question hung between them as she met his eyes. Tangled hair fell around her face in a gentle halo and a nervous finger reached up to attempt to tuck it behind her ear.
It was different than he’d imagined. In all the smoldering moments they’d shared leading up to this moment—the nervous excitement, the hyperawareness of their own bodies, the shy words whispered under the protection of night—they had exchanged the discomfort of vulnerability for the bliss of complete and utter selflessness. They could lose themselves in one another completely, knowing without a flicker of doubt that they were safe and protected in the other’s embrace.
Different…and so much more. This was more than simple hunger of the flesh; this was the inferno unleashed at last after months of simmering obediently beneath the surface.
Ecstasy was too tame a word to describe the pleasure that seized him in the moment their bodies came together. He surrendered wholly to the throes of passion that pulsed with every beat of his frantic heart, and every sense was consumed by the searing blaze of their long-awaited union. So connected were they that it was impossible to determine where she ended and he began. Their tandem melody soared over a synchronous rhythm in a grand, slow crescendo; they were locked in a resonant harmony, their bodies singing in different but complementary intervals to the steady cadence. A deep hum vibrated low in his throat. This was a wildfire after a lightning strike, a furious red storm that left their bare skin glistening, their eyes half-lidded and dark, their breaths ragged, their nerves aflame.
The soft moans that slipped from her swollen lips sent electric thrills up and down his spine. His muscles rippled beneath her imploring touch as the tension wrapped around his ribs and built up around his very bones, and all he could think was her name, over and over again like a mantra…Madison…Madison… Nothing existed in the world but the heat kindled in his core and the feel of the huntress’ body against his—from the pressure of her legs against his sides to the insistence of her fingernails in his back, he savored it all as though he might wake at any moment to discover it was all a dream. He lowered his lips to her ear where he breathed the syllables of her name in a husky, nearly unintelligible groan. Madison.
Time slowed to a syrupy halt as their desperate movements proved nearly too much to bear—and just when Remy thought the overwhelming elation could grow no more, the pressure burst in a rapturous wave that elicited a long, raspy hum from parted lips. Tension gradually unwound its grasp from his limbs, soothed away with concurrent waves of warm pleasure and cool relief. With a deep, contented sigh, he eased himself to Madison’s side, his chest heaving with the slowly ebbing sensation of their climax.
His eyelids fluttered closed as she nestled into his side, and he pressed his lips to her hair as her head found his shoulder. “Yeah,” he concurred, an impish smile curving his lips. A laugh of his own joined hers, and he reached up to draw his fingertips down the length of her arm. “I…yeah. Damn.”
Words completely escaped the physician, and he laughed again, too temporarily spent to describe the wonderment that staunchly occupied his thoughts. No number of stolen kisses or teasing fingertips or flirtatious glances could have prepared him for the reality of their intimacy—and now, in the glowing aftermath, the depth of his satisfaction left him nearly paralyzed with awe. Awe that she was his; awe that he could feel so much for someone at all; awe that their impassioned duet could render him even more profoundly in love with the fierce huntress.
Emotions flooded him with each pulse of his heart and entwined with the gentle thrill conjured by her wandering fingertips. “Mmmm,” he hummed, giving her shoulder a squeeze as her touch traced a silvery scar at his hip. “Your touch is…maddening, I hope you know.” He shuddered slightly with pleasure of it. “Your hands…please tell them they can help themselves, whenever they want.” He exhaled a happy sigh, reaching down to help her tug up the disheveled sheets around their lower halves. They settled beneath the crisp white cotton contentedly, until Madison broke the peaceful silence with her unwarranted concern.
Remy’s brows knit together, and he slid his arm from beneath her to prop himself on his elbow and face her. His steely blue eyes met hers with unwavering certainty, and he reached out to cradle the side of her face. “Madison,” he addressed, his voice languid but firm. “I’ve never felt anything like what I feel for you. Emotionally…” He brought his lips to hers in a quick, featherlight kiss. “…and physically,” he finished in a hoarse murmur, pulling back just far enough to meet her azure gaze once more. A finger traced the sharp line of her jaw, her silken skin warm beneath his touch. “I love you, Madison. I didn’t know it could be like this. What you do to me…” A carnal smile curled his mouth and darkened his eyes for a moment as he trailed off. “I want you. Always. That is…” He hesitated. “That is, if you’ll have me.”
A blush rushed up from her neck to her cheeks at his words. They had just shared the most intimate of physical interactions - yet, she was embarrassed by his description of the effects of her touch. It was nothing in comparison to the rosy hue that colored her face at his next statement. Bright eyes searched his face as she leaned into his hand. Nothing warmed her through like the knowledge that she had pleased him, that he had experienced the same carnal ecstasy that she had. Madison brought her lower lip between her teeth. A bashfulness washed over her and she looked down.
If she would have him? Was Remy so delusional to think that she would ever forsake him? They were inextricably bound, twined together in an inseparable bond of love. Their initial vow of companionable solitude against the harsh elements morphed into a pledge that would span an age, an eternity. Forever she would love him. Forever she would have him. Nothing could break them apart.
Meeting his provocative gaze, the huntress shook her head slightly, casting aside his ridiculous question. A teasing smile played the gentle corners of her mouth. “I don’t know…” She drew on the final syllable, looking to the side as though she had to truly contemplate the immensity of his request. “I suppose.” Madison’s smile broadened, before snatching a kiss from his lips. She deepened it, taking his bottom lip between her white teeth and then slowly releasing it. Breaking back, her eyes captured his. “You’re everything, Remy, and I can’t imagine the rest of my life without you. I can’t fathom spending any day without seeing you, without telling you I love you, without touching you.” To emphasize her point, she ran a deliberate finger down his exposed chest. “Especially without touching you.” The golden glimmer dancing among the cerulean of her eyes turned mischievous. Heat pulsed in delicious waves through her body that felt cold without his touch.
Delicate finger turned into her entire palm and she pushed him onto his back once more. Eager eyes devoured his exposed flesh, taking in every little silvery scar and sinuous muscle. One hand drifted across his skin, from the small scar under his neck to the larger one along the curve of his torso. “You may regret giving my hands such carte blanche,” his lover whispered as she incorporated yet another phrase from their reading lessons. “Every part of me feels so…” Madison’s mouth found his neck and then his ear, “insatiable.” Beneath the crisp covers, she slipped her body over his. Kisses turned languid and soft and then firmly demanding. Time passed as her hands tangled in the hair she had already mussed, as she explored his sides, his hips. Her mouth trailed over his shoulder, down his stomach and further. Drawing a sharp moan from him resulted in a delighted smile on her face. “I want you always, Remy. Always. But mostly now.” Warm lips passionately grabbed his once more and drew him upward, their chests maintaining contact. The huntress had taken her time tasting his skin and mouth before she took him completely again.
Where their first union had been the culmination of loving nighttime declarations and teasing fingertips, their second was born of hungry need and a carnal curiosity. The pair collapsed back onto the mattress with a soft, entwined thump. Both hands rested on either side of his shoulders when they found their release once more and Madison laughed, breathlessly, on top of him. “It seems as though my anatomy lessons are paying off.” Leaning down, she snagged three more quick kisses from his lips and slid beside him. Long brown hair clung to her neck with sweat and her bare skin glistened in the dying firelight. Damien gave a low whine and peered at them over the edge of the bed. Laughter with an air of satisfaction filled the room and she climbed off the bed. Tossing some of the leftover food to the dogs, Madison remained starkly naked before returning to the side of the bed to retrieve her hair ribbon. Binding her hair up, her skin finally cooled to where she could don her robe. Tying it around her waist, she heard a sharp knock on the door.
“Mrs. Sterling? I am sorry to bother but we have dinner prepared. Is your husband well enough for us to bring in the cart for supper?”
A wicked smile appeared on her lips as she responded, keeping her eyes locked on his. “I think he can be easily roused.” She gave her newfound lover a lascivious wink. “Give us a few minutes.”
“Of course, of course.” Mrs. Grafton responded before Madison heard the distinct sound of retreating footsteps.
Remy’s smile broadened to a grin that did not relent even as their lips met in a kiss. Familiar desire flashed in a white hot wave that heated his skin from his neck to his toes, coaxed to life by the feel of her pressed against him. He pulled away just far enough to speak, meeting her half-lidded blue eyes with a mirthful gaze of his own. “I would never regret giving your beautiful, nimble”—he paused, moving in ever closer until his mouth just brushed hers— “talented hands permission to roam.” Instead of planting another kiss on her lips, he stretched the simmering tension and moved to her ear, where his words spilled out in a steamy whisper. “And I do mean anywhere they want to go…”
The physician trailed off, surrendering words for touch instead. He communicated now with his lips and his hands, fingertips tracing over her bare shoulders down to her breasts, and then lower still. A pleased smirk crossed his features as her body reacted to his wandering caresses. He traced her abdomen with his palms while his lips brushed her neck, then settled at the small of her back, where he tugged her tightly against him. “I can’t get close enough to you, Madison,” he groaned softly, squeezing her tighter still. Capturing her mouth with his, he kissed her deeply, fervently…and then it was his turn to writhe with helpless pleasure beneath her exploring hands.
Despite the flare of heat that radiated beneath his skin, Madison’s insistent touch conjured excited gooseflesh. A low growl of satisfaction hummed in his throat as her fingers traced the ragtag map of scars on his torso. Never had anyone’s touch elicited such sensation in him; the simple contact of her fingertips was enough to light his nerves aflame, his pulse roaring in his ears. Every inch of his flesh yearned for the acknowledgment of her deft hands, and the fact that she was thrilled to oblige made the thrill all the more potent.
I want you always, Remy. Always. But mostly now. A shudder of anticipatory pleasure vibrated through his limbs. “Now,” he affirmed huskily, but he couldn’t be certain he had even uttered the words aloud as she slipped herself gracefully atop him. Her body was as silken as the crisp sheets under which they maneuvered, and he met her swollen lips in an impassioned kiss that preluded their intimate encore.
This time, without the inhibition of nerves and newness, they came together with all the electric fury of a spring storm—a new chapter bursting with abandon from winter slumber, a surge of promise heralding the bright future they had already begun to write together. Their fates were intertwined, their partnership sealed. Where Madison went, Remy would follow always—to guide her, to protect her, to love her. And yet he could not deny the pure selfishness; for all he believed he did not deserve her, neither could he ever let her go. He belonged to her as she belonged to him, a bond he would carry to his grave and to the unknown that awaited beyond.
At last they sank back into the mattress, panting with exhaustion and delirious with ecstasy, their breathless laughter as entangled as their limbs. He turned to lay on his side and reached up to brush away the rebellious locks of brunette hair that clung to her glistening brow. “Once a star pupil,” he drawled, steel-blue eyes twinkling, “always a star pupil.”
They lapsed into a serene, satisfied silence, facing one another with the sheets knotted at their feet. Remy’s gaze flowed over her sumptuous form in the dying firelight, eyes molten with contentment in the afterglow of their union. It didn’t seem to matter that they had just had one another twice already that evening; his desire burned like a furnace at his core, a perpetual blaze that the huntress kept amply stoked.
So focused was he on her form that he hardly heard Damien’s whimper at the foot of the bed. He reached out for her when she stirred, his fingers trailing down her bare back as she pulled away and stood. “Don’t go,” he declared, a little more desperately than he’d intended. But a carnal smile curved his lips when she paused before him. His brazen gaze traversed the length of her naked form, from the mussed chocolate tresses that tumbled over her shoulders to the long, lean lines of her bare legs. His own bashfulness was forgotten as well; he remained propped up on his side, his back safely facing away from her, the sheets shielding only his ankles from her eyes.
“Now this is a view I could never get tired of,” he said with a lascivious grin. His smile dissolved into a chuckle at the knock on the door, and he bit his lip when Madison met his eyes. “Oh yes,” he whispered, so only the huntress could hear. “Your lover can be easily roused…” He rose abruptly to his knees on the mattress—having blissfully forgotten about his wounded leg, he hissed against the sudden reminder of pain at the movement—but he grasped her shoulder and pulled her into his embrace nevertheless, cradling her there for a moment before placing a delicate kiss on her forehead.
“Toss me my robe?” he asked, lowering himself to sit on the edge of the bed with his feet on the cool floor. He ran his fingers along the edge of the bandage on his thigh, the ache beginning to creep in once more. Catching the robe when Madison tossed it his way, he stood carefully and donned the garment with a knot at his waist. “Are we supposed to go tell her when we’re ready?” he asked, sitting back down on the mattress. He cast a mischievous glance at the huntress. “If that’s the case, then I can think of a few more ways to pass the time—”
In true Grafton fashion, another tentative rap on the door frame interrupted him. He bit back a laugh and glanced to the hopelessly rumpled sheets, which spoke to exactly how much rest Remy had gotten since the woman’s last ill-timed visit to the room. He reached down to untangle them, hastily folding the wrinkled material over the discarded duvet at the foot of the bed. Better, he thought, but certainly not fooling anyone who might look more closely. He met Madison’s eyes with an impish—and not at all apologetic—grin.
The huntress answered the door with an expression he could not quite describe, but somehow perfectly understood—an eagerness for sustenance after their activities, and a deep reluctance to disrupt their reverie. A young serving boy rolled in another cart, and Mrs. Grafton, ruddy-faced and out of breath, followed frantically behind.
“I did not want your supper to get cold!” the portly innkeeper exclaimed, as though she’d been in a foot race. “I can’t have that. Not after all you’ve done. Now, where is Henry? Henry!” She turned her head to bellow down the corridor. “He’s bringing the wine—oh, there you are!” A second boy, gangly and not much older than the first, rushed in with two dark bottles cradled in the crook of each knobby elbow. Mrs. Grafton barked a series of orders, and the two servants—brothers, by the look of their matching blond hair and prominent ears—were spurred into action. While one set two places at the table, the other stoked the fire with fresh kindling.
Remy and Madison exchanged glances, and he snaked an arm around her waist while they watched. Mrs. Grafton at last turned her attention to them, her round eyes watery in the firelight. For a moment, Remy thought she was going to burst into tears, but instead she just smiled at him. “I’m glad to see you looking so well,” she said at last, her throat tight with emotion. “What you did for my family…for this town…you risked your life.” She looked to Madison. “You both did.”
“We were happy to help,” Remy replied, pulling Madison in closer.
“You are a couple-a rare ones, you two.” Mrs. Grafton looked down. “If you aren’t too tired after supper, please come and find me downstairs. If you’re ready to talk about the…events. My son will not speak of it still.”
Remy nodded gravely. “We’ll come find you,” he promised.
“Thank you. Please…please let us know if you need anything else. Anything at all. Come, lads.” And with that, she ushered the serving boys into the hallway and departed, the door clicking closed behind them.
Remy turned to Madison, threading his fingers through hers. She tugged him to his feet and led him to the table, where an impressive spread of food awaited them in separate ceramic dishes. One of the serving boys had even set up a pair of candles, which burned steadily atop white wax pillars between the plates. His stomach rumbled as he lowered himself carefully into one of the chairs, the aroma of smoked meat and fresh bread prompting his mouth to water. In wake of their afternoon exertions, he was ravenously hungry, especially considering how little he had eaten the previous day.
Nevertheless, he paused, watching his companion affecionately through the gentle dance of the candle flames. “I love you, Madison Gallow,” he said matter-of-factly. “I just needed to tell you again.” Smiling crookedly, he looked down to the steaming food and stabbed a roasted potato with the silver fork. “But I just might love this dinner more. Sorry.”
Each time Madison thought his words could not elicit a more physical response from her, she was proven drastically wrong. Every husky syllable caused delicious contractions in the pit of her stomach. Heat flared across her hips as he tugged her close and they reunited. The soft feel of his fingertips as she departed almost, almost drew her back between the sheets with him. The huntress was convinced that if she allowed him to drag her back into the bed, she wouldn’t leave for the rest of the evening.
A bright cherry blush flared across her cheeks beneath the little dapples of freckles dancing along the bridge of her nose. The compliments to her body were embarrassedly received, despite all the intimacies they had just shared. His mouthed whisper sent an electric thrill surging from the tips of her fingers into the space between her hip bones. “You’re a rogue, you know.” She lightly beat on his shoulders, feigning the need to be away from him before he released her. However, she had noticed the wince and her eyes flickered down his naked form to inspect the bandage (pausing to explore other areas for an extended moment). “Mmmm. “ A murmur in affirmation to retrieve his robe. “How is your leg? I hope that I didn’t hurt you, but as you said - I can’t get close enough to you.” A smirk danced across her still swollen lips.
Lifting the discarded robe up, she tossed it to him before coming to stand before him. Bright blue eyes sparked with a delighted gleam as he sat back down. She slipped before him, one hand wrapping around his neck. Her warm legs slid to rest on either side of his left thigh, slightly straddling him. Flames of desire coursed through her at his words and she lowered her head to capture his mouth. Free hand snaked up from his knee, making a straight line path along his inner thigh, only to be thwarted by none other than Mrs. Grafton. Madison exhaled a breath against his mouth with a light laugh. “Always the worst fucking timing.” She whispered against his lips before going to answer the door. His feeble attempts to hide the rumbled result of their lovemaking made her smile, before she opened the door wide for the innkeeper. The bustle of the room was amusing and she watch with half-interest.
Sauntering, she moved back to his side and slid against his body. As easily as it had happened when they had posed as a married couple all those months ago, their bodies fit as perfect pieces together. While they prepared the table and the food, slender fingers traveled up his back on the outside of the fabric this time. Teasingly, she wrote now, over and over again until the boys were done. Taunting him was her only goal and when they left, she tugged him towards the food. He needed to eat. They had to satisfy other needs before they could continue their little love affair.
The room smelled of food she hadn’t eaten since her parents had been alive. Roasted potatoes in garlic and olive oil. Slices of salt and peppered tomatoes. Taking a seat, she closed her eyes and inhaled sharply to savor the aromas. Chicken thighs with salted, crispy skin. Carrots sautéed in butter served next to a basket of soft bread. Butter resided in a dish a short distance away and Madison could not decide what to put her hands on first. She was reaching out for a slice of warm bread when he said her favorite four words strung together in precisely that order. Bashfully, she rolled her eyes and prepared to respond before he professed his love for the food. Mouth fell open before she pursed her lips together. “Mmm, we’ll see if you feel the same way later, when I have you all to myself.” She placed a piece of buttered bread into her mouth, purposefully licking the dab of butter from her lips when his eyes moved to look at her.
Pouring him a tall glass of the rich red wine, she ladled food onto her plate until she could not see a single bit of the china beneath. “And before you ask, I am plying you with wine to take full advantage of you later.” They fell into a comfortable and companionable silence as they devoured the food before them. The week’s (particularly the current day’s) exertions had conjured quite the ferocious appetite. Finally, when she had consumed enough wine to make her fingertips tingle and a warm heat suffuse her limbs, she leaned back into her chair. “I can’t eat another bite but I don’t want to stop. This is the best meal I’ve had since...a long time ago. Though your watery rabbit stew is a close second.” Smirking, she drained the last drops of crimson liquid from her wine glass. It left a dark stain on her lips and the lingering taste of blackberry oak on her tongue.
“How terrible would it be if I just dragged you back into bed?” Madison stood as she said it, as though forcibly resisting the urge. She tore apart remaining bits of food and tossed them to the dogs, making sure they sat and were obedient before rewarding them. “It is nearly all I can think about. Constantly. Even when other people are in the room, I just imagine...” A exasperated noise left her. Hands itched to touch him, to untie that robe and let it fall from his body once again. There were so many ways she longed to love him, to explore every inch of him. She stood a good distance away from him, not trusting herself to get too close to him. The smell of cedarwood was an aphrodisiac for her now, calling to her as a siren did to a poor sailor. If he touched her now, she knew they’d be terribly late to discuss everything with the Graftons.
“We better dress to go down soon and the dogs probably need a quick run behind the inn. They have been...patient with us.” Madison began to slowly run her fingers through her long cinnamon hair. Each knot took some time to untangle as she looked at him, fresh skin from his shave illuminated by the now roaring fire. “And you’ve made a right mess of my hair. It’ll take me hours to brush it out tonight.” She teased him before rummaging through her pack to find her thinner sweater and leggings.
Once all of her articles were located, she debated undressing before him or in the little wash room. Was it presumption to just disrobe around him now? But if he did around her it would be horribly distracting. Little social nuances and niceties that she had been wholly unfamiliar with eluded her still. As she prepared her clothes to dress, a thought dawned on her. “Do you need...need help getting dressed? I can help you change.” The words came out far more seductive, more lustful than she intended, “Because of your leg, I mean.” A blush crept up the back of her neck and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
Compared to their strictly rationed winter diet of dried meats and scavenged berries, the steaming spread before them was nothing short of a feast. It had been ages since he’d had bread that didn’t turn to sawdust in his mouth, an eternity since he’d tasted chicken that was more than just dry sinew between his teeth. It was clear that however remote this town might have been, their denizens had learned to make the most of the short growing season and take every advantage of the perpetual chill to preserve their agricultural bounty.
Their resilience against the Cold, and indeed against the militarized world, was a bright spot in the ubiquitous darkness—and one from which they were benefitting now. Remy had traded his physician’s services for meals before, but never had a reward of comestibles been quite so lavish as this. It almost made the agony of unanesthetized sutures worth it…almost. With his stomach now long settled, his appetite had re-emerged in full voracious force; he filled his plate once, twice, stuffing himself with every morsel of meat, vegetable, and bread. He grinned at Madison, washing down his third helping of carrots with a long swig of red wine. “You’re going to be the one in love with the food when you see how much more energy for extracurriculars it gives me,” he teased, licking crimson droplets from his lips suggestively.
Remy slouched back in the chair with contented defeat when at last he could consume no more. With his belly sated, and the wine warming his limbs from within, the ache in his thigh was a little easier to forget. Especially with Madison—who was, as he was, naked beneath her robe—sitting so maddeningly close. He stared at her sweet cabernet mouth as she tossed scraps to the dogs, his thoughts quickly turning lascivious as he imagined what it would be like to sample the wine from her lips. When she looked to him, his eyes gleamed, and he offered her a crooked smile. “If it’s any reassurance,” he drawled, bringing the chalice of drink to his mouth, “I hardly heard what you said because I was too busy thinking about how much better this would taste from your lips.”
Before he allowed his desire to get the better of him once more, he rose to his feet and rummaged through his pack, retrieving a bundle of clothing that had mostly been taken from the storage boxes at the cabin. He looked up when she spoke and grinned at the blush beneath the freckles on her cheeks. “I could always use a hand,” he answered, matching her unintentionally seductive tone with a dramatic one of his own. Despite the teasing nature of it, he felt a familiar heat flare in his core.
He didn’t wait for her to avert her gaze. Keeping the robe tied at his waist, he wriggled his arms from the sleeves and slid a plain black t-shirt over his bare torso. He paused, about to tug the rest of the garment free from his hips. “I…sorry, is this okay?” It was his turn for a blush to paint his cheeks, sensing her sudden nervousness. Reaching out, he grasped her hand and pulled her against him, snaking his arms around her waist. He leaned down and kissed her softly. It was easy to forget the newness of their partnership with how naturally they fit together. “You can get dressed wherever you’re most comfortable,” he murmured. “I’m going to do so right here. I can manage, whatever you choose.”
The clothes he’d taken from the cabin were ill-fitting, clearly meant for a taller man more accustomed to hearty meals and lazier seasons. The silver lining to the unfortunate mismatch in sizing was that it meant the gray trousers were quite loose on his leg, allowing plenty of room even with the thick bandage wrapped around his thigh. Remy had no room to complain, especially considering that Mr. Hastings the tailor was likely working on their brand new garments at that very moment.
“Ready?” he asked when Madison had dressed, rolling up the sleeves of his loose beige sweater. “The sooner we go, the sooner I can help you undress, you know…”
—
The main floor was as crowded as it had likely ever been, stuffed to the beams with curious townsfolk. If there was ever any question as to why the patrons lingered, it became quickly apparent that they had come with the hopes of catching a glimpse of the pair of strangers who had swooped in from the mountains and dramatically rescued the youngest son of the most well-liked family in the settlement. And dinner was as good an excuse as any to haunt the inn, poising in wait until the illustrious couple emerged from their suite.
Supported on one side by Madison and the other by his hand on the railing, Remy managed to keep his expression free of discomfort as they carefully descended the staircase. He could sense their audience’s eyes upon him as surely as he could feel the huntress’ grip on his arm. A hush swept the open room as conversations halted, the sudden quiet punctuated only by a cacophony of dull clanks as knives and forks were abruptly abandoned on ceramic plates. Remy felt Madison tense subtly at his side with the weight of the attention. He was almost thankful for his pain in that moment; it gave him something else to focus on.
“Heya!” whooped a man’s voice. “Let’s hear it for ’em!” a woman shouted. A deafening chorus of cheers and applause erupted as suddenly as had the preceding silence. Having reached the bottom of the stairs, Remy and Madison exchanged guarded but knowing glances. The physician dropped his hand to thread his fingers through hers, giving a reassuring squeeze.
They picked their way quickly through the crowd, nodding wordlessly as people declared their thanks and praise. Remy flinched against a man who clapped him excitedly on the back, which caused his muscles to flex instinctively and send a bolt of pain down his leg. He gritted his teeth.
Mrs. Grafton, summoned by the noise of her clientele, watched this from the doorway and ushered them behind the protection of closed swinging doors. “Mr. Asher!” she scolded, furious. The man who had struck Remy, however well-intentioned and congratulatory his gesture may have been, flushed scarlet even in the dim lamplight. “Can’t you see the man is injured? Hands to yerself, ya fool of a man!” She closed the door behind them with a harrumph, mopping her brow with the sleeve of her homespun dress. “Thank you for coming down. How was your supper? Was it to your liking? We have sweet cakes coming out of the oven momentarily, made special just in your honor. I was going t’ have Henry bring some up to your room—”
Remy held up a hand and smiled. “The food was divine,” he reassured. He glanced to Madison before meeting Mrs. Grafton’s wide eyes once again. “We’re very grateful for all of it. Is there a place we might talk privately? And a place where I might sit?”
The portly innkeeper gasped. “Oh! I’m sorry! Of course, of course, notta worry! Come, this way.”
She led them through the kitchens to the very rear of the building, where the Grafton family’s residence connected to the inn. On the other side of a wide, scuffed wooden door was a small living area populated with a ragtag collection of furniture—odds and ends retired from service at the inn—and warmed by a wood-burning stove. The air smelled of cloves and smoke, and for a moment, Remy was transported back to their cabin in the mountains. A wave of longing swept through him, and he moved his uninjured leg to press against Madison’s as they lowered themselves to a worn but velvety sofa.
Mrs. Grafton sat opposite them in a flowery armchair, perched on the edge of the cushion with her hands clasped anxiously in her ample lap. “My son—Wallace—he…” Her voice broke. “I know nothing, I know nothing. Ursulah says he is well, that his wounds are only minor. But he is still so very frightened, y’see. He willna speak to me.” Her shoulders convulsed in a dry sob. “Can you…can you please tell me…what happened out there?”
“Ursulah, from the apothecary?” Remy asked. “I met her yesterday.” He thought back to the strong-willed, petite woman with whom he had traded supplies and nodded approvingly. It felt like weeks ago. “Your son was in good hands. She is very good.”
Movement caught his eye from the corner of the room. Having heard and recognized these new voices coming from their parlor, the boy from the woods crept along the wall like a shadow. Mrs. Grafton froze, as though any action might startle him away. Remy, however, turned to look at him and smiled. “Hello.”
But the boy only had eyes for Madison. He crept up to her side and reached out for her arm, gripping it with all of his juvenile strength. He stood there for another moment in silence. His uncertain stare eventually strayed to Remy, who must have looked even more drastically different without his beard to the child—but a bright flicker of recognition dawned in the boy’s brown eyes. “You got hurt,” he whispered, so quietly Remy wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it.
Remy nodded. “Yes.”
Mrs. Grafton did her best to contain her tears, but they spilled down her cheeks in steady rivulets. Thankfully, she kept her sobs—and hiccups—in check.
Wallace looked back to the huntress, inching even closer to the woman who had calmed him and saved him and carried him and kept him warm. When he turned, Remy noticed a cut along the boy’s hairline that had been recently cleaned, as well as a bruise that had blossomed indigo at his eyebrow. “Wallace,” he said quietly, hoping not to startle him. “Would it be okay if I took a look at your cut? The one up here.” Remy pointed to his own temple. “I’m a doctor, remember?” He looked to the innkeeper, then locked eyes with the huntress. “Madison can talk to your ma while I take a peek. Will you let me do that?”
For a moment, Remy thought the boy might run. But he slowly released his grasp on Madison’s sweater sleeve and stepped toward the physician. Remy rose shakily to his feet—“I’m okay,” he reassured the two women—and limped slowly into the modest dining room. Wallace watched, looking a little alarmed by the unsteady gait. “It hurts because it’s healing,” Remy told him—a reassuring half-truth. “Can you hop up on the table for me, with your legs over the edge?”
Heat flared to life once more inside of her at the suggestive comment about the alcoholic stain on her lips. The effect her had on her was more than physical - her heart swelled at his little smirks, the sound of his breathing, the way his hair caught the firelight. Madison blushed furiously, only to be soothed by his gentle kiss. Eager eyes watched him dress, taking in the pained movement of attempting to balance on his injured leg. She hesitated about dressing before inhaling slowly. She slipped on her clothes, better fitting than his own. “If you keep talking like that, we’ll never make it downstairs, husband.” Slipping his arm around her for support, they departed the safety of their room.
The dogs trailed after them as they left the room, whining low at the slow pace they set down the stairs in order to accommodate the doctor’s injury. The oppressive silence at their arrival only served to increase the anxiety she already felt about descending the steps into the common room. Bright blue eyes cast a quick glance around and then the cheers erupted. Madison stiffened. The urge to retreat to the security and silence of their opulent suite swelled inside of her. As she moved to take a step backwards, familiar fingers slipped through her own. Calm traveled up her arm and strengthened her resolve.
Maneuvering amongst the tables, Madison caught the movement of the man a split second before his hand came crashing onto Remy’s back. A hiss escaped her lips, noticing her lover’s pain. Despite her mild agoraphobia, anger swelled inside of her and she opened her mouth to snarl at the man. Mrs. Grafton managed to take the words out of her mouth (albeit with a more pleasant edge than the huntress would have had.) With a glare of her shoulder, she placed soft fingertips on the spot the man had landed his blow.
Just like her companion, the aromas of the back room drew her mind to the safety of their cabin - before stolen children and knives in the thigh. Every little movement Remy made to comfort her resulted in an amorous quickening of her heartbeat. In response, she brushed her fingers across his knee and leaned her arm against his. The slow pulsing warmth through his oversized sweater served to distract her slightly from the conversation Mrs. Grafton and Remy were having, that is until she felt a small hand on her arm.
Blinking slowly, attention focused on Wallace. He appeared much improved but strain hovered about his eyes. Everything occurred more swiftly than she could respond to until the doctor request to look at the boy. Madison nudged him slightly, nodding at Remy and they slipped away. Nervous eyes flicked from her companion to the weeping mother across from her. The huntress shifted on the worn couch, tucking her hands under her thighs and slouching.
“I’m not as...eloquent as my husband.” Madison began, looking up briefly at the older woman across from her. Tears hovered over her lower lids as she kept her expectant gaze on the huntress, who was clearly uncomfortable with this entire affair. Remy would certainly hear about this later. Perhaps he could find a pleasant way to make it up to her. Bolstered by the thought of being along with him again, she began to to weave the slow tale. Carefully, delicately, she explained their pursuit of the unknown man. They found the shoe and then the boy and then...Madison kept her eyes on her knees then. She recounted the fight with the man briefly. She did not describe the way she toyed with the man before killing him. It took her more than thirty minutes to relay the entirety of their adventure, particularly the excruciating trek back. Her voice shook slightly, describing the pallor of her companion. She did, however, describe the man and the uniform he wore. He was a watchman.
Mrs. Grafton froze, looking over at her boy who was bonding rather easily with the physician. Worry lined her features. “Was there another involved? Could there be?”
Madison pondered the question, replaying the trail of snow in her mind.”It’s very likely. I saw tracks that were not...the same size as the man I...the abductor we came in contact with. “ They were similar to the boots the man had worn though, the ones she had stepped over to pin his wrist, to slide her knife up through his chin.
“The man you describe...he has a brother.” Mrs. Grafton stammered, looking over at Wallace and back to Madison. The huntress’ head jerked up, muscles flexed beneath her sweater. “Thick as thieves they are...were.”
“Best for the watchmen to arrest him then. Question him.” Madison cast her gaze over to Remy again, before the dogs scratched at the door. Rising, the huntress let them in where they dripped melting snow from their paws all over the floors. “Sorry.” She said, absentmindedly, brushing Damien down.
“He’s in the barroom.” Mrs. Grafton whispered the words to the physician’s lower through a croak of emotion. Brunette head whipped towards the portly woman. Every nerve fiber electrified and her muscles tensed, a lioness sensing a malevolent presence. “He came when you two came down. He...he is a watchman too.” Each word magnified her hunter’s instincts and she released the thick fur clenched in her hands.
“Can you send for the head of the Watch? I...I don’t have my knives.” Madison felt suddenly vulnerable, naked without her honed companions. “And show me who he is.” The young woman motioned to Wallace and Remy. It drew the doctor’s eye and she held out her hand. Stay. Mrs. Grafton summoned one of the wait staff - a sandy-haired reed-like boy. He nodded gravely at her whispered words before starting out the door into the night , faster than a flash.
Madison followed Mrs. Grafton to the kitchen door, where the woman wiped her eyes and nose on her sleeve before gesturing shakily to the spitting image of the man Madison had killed. It froze her into place, rooting her to the spot as though she was a mighty oak. She looked him over and she was suddenly back in the woods, knife in hand. She saw the fear, the pleading, in his eyes as she shoved her blade upwards. Just as the tavern owner began to lower her hand, bright eyes turned towards them both. Recognition flashed and his body seized. He knew. They knew.
The huntress was halfway across the room before anyone knew what was happening, leaping over empty chairs and pushing those in her way. Yet, her prey was swift and strategically seated by the inn’s worn door. He was out into the night as her hand snagged a table’s knife. She stood in the doorway, moments after his abrupt departure. Bold bursts of cool air whipping her hair behind her as predatory eyes searched right and left. There were too many tracks from patrons’ comings and goings throughout the night. She was without her shoes and proper attire for the cold night. Snarling a curse, she slammed the door behind her as she retreated back into the warmth of the Grafton’s meager estate.
Dejected, the huntress’ expression soured as she strode back slowly to the back room. She rubbed the back of her neck as she moved over to Remy, shaking her head slightly. Unspent adrenaline pulsed through her, making her antsy and needing to find a way to release the energy built inside of her. She paced for a moment, before catching Wallace’s worried expression. Taking a slow breath, she steadied herself and smiled. “Nothing to worry about buddy. I just missed the last piece of cake and I was so looking forward to it. She makes good cake, huh?” The boy’s expression changed and grinned at her.
The boy climbed onto the table, his pale lips pursed and eyes wide with uncertainty. Remy smiled, trying to put his young patient at ease, but the child was observant—he saw the edges of the doctor’s pain, the wince not quite concealed. Wide eyes strayed down to Remy’s leg.
“D-does it hurt?” the boy stammered, his voice a hoarse whisper.
Remy’s brows arched. “Yes.”
They lapsed into silence, the quiet filled only with the unintelligible murmurs of Madison and Mrs. Grafton in the adjacent room. Remy reached a finger up to the boy’s chin and turned his head gently to the side, examining the gash and bruise that marred the tender skin of his forehead and cheek.
“I saw…” Wallace took his lower lip beneath his top teeth. “I saw him hurt you.”
“Yeah?” Remy replied, peering at the shallow cut along the Grafton boy’s brow.
“I wasna s-supposed to see,” continued Wallace, eyes swimming. “She t-told me to c-cover my eyes, but I s-saw it…” A single tear spilled down his cheek and fell to his sweater, soaking quickly into the beige wool.
“He hurt both of us, didn’t he?” Remy said softly, draping a hand on the boy’s bony shoulder. Tiny, silent sobs vibrated beneath his palm, but the child managed to nod. “But…can you look at me, Wallace?”
The boy sniffled and obeyed, meeting the doctor’s eyes once, quickly, before his gaze fell again to the floor.
“But we both survived,” finished Remy, smiling despite the fact that Wallace was focused on the rug. “We both survived, and we’re going to be okay. Even if you’re scared, it’s going to be okay.”
The boy said nothing, but he made no motion to flee. Remy took the opportunity to continue the exam, holding up one finger and instructing him to follow it with his eyes as he moved it left to right and back again. “Very good, Wallace,” he praised. “Have you felt dizzy today?” The child shook his head no. “Did you eat?” A tentative nod, yes. “Did you feel sick after you ate?” No. “Did you feel sick last night?” Yes. “But it’s better today?” Yes. “Did you throw up?” No. “Have you felt tired?” Yes. “That’s normal. I’m tired too. Was it hard to stay awake today?” Hesitation, then a slow, uncertain no.
Suddenly, the boy’s shoulders jumped at the sound of a door latch closing near the front of the residence. Remy looked up to see a familiar face appear in the shadowy doorway—Ursulah, the apothecary, a worn leather bag in the crook of one arm while the other gripped a steaming mug. Their gazes locked for a long moment before recognition dawned—the sight of Remy clean-shaven and indeed, clean, was a drastic shift, and like Mrs. Grafton and her son, the change surprised her.
“Oh,” she breathed, her expression caught between shock and relief. “When I heard Wally had been found by a coupla strangers, I just knew it had t’ be you.” Her gaze flicked to the boy, whose shoulders relaxed somewhat as Ursulah spoke. She reached out stroked his hair in greeting. “I cleaned you up, me an’ your mum, didn’t we, Wally? Took care of those cuts. The scrape on your knee, too. You were brave.”
“Very brave,” Remy agreed, stepping back. He grimaced as his muscle tensed.
“I heard you were wounded, Dr. Sterling,” Ursulah said quietly, placing her bag on the table and placing the warm mug in Wallace’s hands. The child took a wordless sip, then another, watching as she pulled out a roll of woven cloth.
“That’s right. I’ll pull through.” Remy met the apothecary’s eyes, which flashed with such severe concern he wondered for a moment if he might have done something else to upset her. “Really,” he emphasized. “I’m okay.”
It was obvious that Ursulah did not quite believe him, but she straightened her posture and turned her attention to the child. “Time to change that dressin’ on yer knee, lad,” she declared matter-of-factly. “Stay right where you are and keep sipping yer milk tea. Keep that belly warm.”
The woman crouched down and eased up Wallace’s trouser leg, revealing a tightly-wound bandage tinged pink with blood. As she worked, and the child was distracted, Remy spoke. “I was concerned about the cut on his forehead, with a bruise that deep around his eye,” he explained, keeping his tone light so as not to upset their patient. “A blow hard enough to break the skin and leave a mark like that…I wanted to rule out concussion.”
“Concussion?” The woman’s tongue tripped on the word, and Remy was reminded that despite the comforts of the Graftons’ inn, they were indeed still very deep in the wilderness—and capable as he believed Ursulah to be, their vocabularies were likely to be very different.
Remy racked his brain for the term she might know. “Commotion in the brain,” he clarified. “From the force of it. Wallace, what happened here? Did he hit you?” He pointed to his own brow.
The boy, more at ease in the presence of Ursulah and with the comfort of his sweet milk tea, nodded.
“And did it hurt?” the apothecary asked as she wound a new bandage around the scrape.
“I don’t know,” the boy whispered between swallows. “I feel asleep after. It hurt when I woke up…in the woods. And it hurts now.”
Ursulah looked up with alarm to Remy, who nodded infinitesimally. “No nausea or vomiting, according to the patient himself, but we could ask Mrs. Grafton,” the doctor said. “Some sleepiness, which might just be exhaustion. I wouldn’t worry too much yet…but it’s something to keep an eye on.” He looked to Madison through the doorway, who had risen to let the dogs back inside. Magnolia trotted in, greeting Ursulah with a cold nose to the woman’s neck. The petite woman gasped, which was enough to make Wallace laugh—the first time Remy had heard the child do so.
“Climb down now,” Ursulah instructed, lifting the child from the table. With how much Magnolia had grown over the long winter months, the fluffy beast was nearly taller than Wallace. Nevertheless, the boy did not seem frightened, and the dog was delighted to have another face to shower with kisses.
Remy’s brow furrowed when caught Madison’s gaze once again—a gaze that never failed to halt the breath in his lungs, even across the parlor—but he nodded when she indicated he should remain where he was. Whatever Mrs. Grafton had said to her, it seemed not to be good news. He watched as the innkeeper led Madison back through the kitchens, swallowing back a knot of worry that had wedged itself in his throat.
With Wallace occupied by Magnolia, Ursulah turned to Remy. “I told Mrs. Grafton I would stay here tonight, for Wally’s sake,” she said. “We’ll both keep a watchful eye out for the Commotion. Canna be too careful with those.” She sighed wearily, her stern face falling. “I came and checked him over as soon as I got word. You and your wife saved his life. I heard a rumor—I hate t’ believe them, I do—but when the bastard didn’t come back, I thought perhaps…” A sigh through clenched teeth came out in a hiss. “Was it a member of the Watch?”
Remy nodded. A flare of anger, and then one of fear, stirred to life in his chest. “Yeah. And we don’t think he was acting alone.”
“I know the man.” The apothecary’s cheeks flushed, her eyes darkening with similar fury. “And his brother. The Donaldson twins. Rotten t’ the core, both of them, beyond redemption.” She shook her head. “My heart sank when they both were old enough to join the Watch, and they’ve been hell ever since, worse every year that goes by.” Without warning, the woman reached out and snatched Remy’s hand, his ill-fitting shirt sleeve easily sliding up his forearm to reveal his conspicuously blank wrist.
Time seemed to slow as every muscle in his body tensed. How could it had slipped his mind? No matter how remote the village, it was never safe for a man his age to be without the mark. He could easily explain an honorable discharge—the scars on his leg sufficed as proof of that, as Madison had seen the previous autumn when they’d been accosted in the last town they’d ventured into—but it was far more difficult to explain why he’d never been tattooed in the first place.
She turned his hand back over and cradled it in her own, tears of relief brimming her eyes as she read the unmaskable terror in Remy’s storm-blue eyes. “Oh, bless you, Dr. Sterling,” she whispered, squeezing his fingers with surprising strength. When she continued, she kept her voice low. “The minor command of the closest Militia regiment has the Donaldson brothers in his pocket. We are so remote here, Dr. Sterling…we farm and we get by as best we can. We keep our heads low, and the Militias come through only a few times each summer when the weather is safe for travel…” She paused. “The Watch is technically overseen by the Militia, but they mostly leave our Watchmen be, because it’s not worth the expense and the risk to patrol our small village with their higher ranks, especially in the winter. But the Donaldsons have made sure to report any infractions, any treasonous speak amongst the men…those brothers have always been more interested in torturing souls than protecting them…”
Remy drew a cautious breath. “The man got what he deserved,” he whispered, glancing to be sure Wallace hadn’t heard. “We left him in the woods.”
“Be careful, Dr. Sterling, is what I say to you. You en’t in the mountains no more.” Ursulah made a point to look to his wrist. “I fear a treacherous road lies ahead for you and your wife. Soldiers have been increasing their presence between here and Thebes, thanks t’ those Donaldson bastards. I hate to imagine how one might try avengin’ his brother, and he’s got the connections to make things…more difficult for you.”
Clenching his fists against the tremble in his fingertips, Remy heaved a heavy sigh. He looked up to see Madison striding toward him, her face dour, her chest rising and falling in quick breaths. A new wave of concern washed over him. What happened? he mouthed. He snaked his arm around her shoulders, pulling her tight to his side. “Missed the last piece of cake?” he questioned theatrically, looking to Wallace. “Maybe Madison and I will go check in the kitchen again while Ursulah takes you upstairs to rest. You know, I need some rest too. Maybe if you’re good, your mother will bring you some sweets before bed.”
The apothecary smiled at Madison and led the child upstairs, leaving the doctor and the huntress alone for a few moments of solace while Mrs. Grafton calmed the patrons beyond the kitchens. He eased himself into a chair, taking Madison’s hands in his own. “What happened?” he asked anxiously, trying to read her expression in the dim lamplight. “I couldn’t make out what you and Mrs. Grafton were talking about, and then suddenly you were gone.”
Now was not the time to respond to his silent inquiry, as Wallace still resided so close. Slipping into the crook of his arm, Madison felt the slow warmth of his presence begin to ease the knot of anxiety in her chest. Worried blue eyes darted to the woman she now identified as the apothecary from Remy’s recounting the previous day. Ursulah. It was an odd thing, that name, and one the huntress was not soon to forget.
Despite her preoccupation with the events of the tavern, the young woman felt the tremble in her lover’s hands as her took hers. She kept a delicate hold on his fingers, lowering herself down to the floor in front of him, even though every nerve in her body was alight from the chase. Energy buzzed beneath her skin. Remy asked about her, but she knew something had transpired in her absence to set him on edge. The tight line of his jaw working and the faint shake of his hands the only discernible indication that not all was well with the doctor. They would get to that in a moment.
“The man has a brother. Had a brother.” She corrected herself after a pause, breaths evening out as she settled against his leg on the floor before him. Releasing one hand, she tucked a stray strand of brown hair behind her ear. Chin rested on his knee as she met his gaze. “And he was just there. Sitting there as though they hadn’t abducted a child just yesterday, just...there. And Remy,” her voice faltered, almost imperceptibly, “he looked just like him. A copy of the man from the forest.” The image of bright red blood spilling from a neck wound flashed before her eyes. She saw the fear in those evil eyes before his death, the begging and her unfaltering resolve to end his life. Madison squeezed his hand. “I tried to get to him but he was too close to the door and I lost him in the snow.” Magnolia came over and nudged her shoulder. With her free hand, she rubbed the dog’s ears before the large animal bounded back to tackle her brother. “He’s gone but he’s still...out there. I should have moved faster to get to him before he saw us.“
“But what did she say? Ursulah.” Madison clarified, tasting the unique name on her tongue. “You seem...upset.” She had not seen the fear in him at the apothecary owner’s exploration of his wrist. They had not thought to recreate the mark this time, as they would just had passed through swiftly if Remy’s heart of gold had not felt the Grafton’s pain. “I-“ Just then Mrs. Grafton entered the room with an older, worn gentleman in a Watchman’s uniform. Madison bolted up from her position before her assumed husband.
“This is Potter Graham, head of the Watch. He’s a good man.” Mrs. Grafton explained, clearly noticing the stiff posture Madison had assumed, positioned slightly before the doctor in a protective stance. “He has been trying to manage the Donaldson boys for years but this...this will settle it. I’ve already explained where the body can be found...based on what you told me, miss.” Mrs. Grafton gestured to the huntress.
“Thank ya for ya help in this matter, Dr. Mrs.” He removed his cap then, holding it in his thick hands. “It was a matter o’ time before the Donaldsons took over and forced me out. Their ties to the Militia...” He shrugged, as though that was just the way of things. “We’ll find ‘im, Mrs. We won’t let this happen again.” He addressed the innkeeper then. “I’ll go round tha boys. We’ll search tonight.” Wringing her hands, Mrs. Grafton led him back out, leaving the couple alone once more.
Anxiety twisted itself back into the tight knit beneath her sternum, resulting in her need to pace towards the back door. She opened it up once more and let the dogs out, watching them bound through the snow. However, she hovered in the frame, not letting them get too far out of sight. Whistling, the hounds came back just as Mrs. Grafton did.
“Your help.” A break in her voice as she steadied herself with a hand against her chest. “We still will never be able to thank you enough for saving our Wally. So long as I breathe, you will have a home here.”
“Thank you.” Madison breathed, feeling the gratitude too much for her. This was more human interaction than she had encountered in the last five years and it was beginning to overwhelm her. “We will be departing in two days, if his leg is able to tolerate the journey. We won’t overstay. We must be moving on.”
“If you’re ever back this way, you stop by to see us.” She spoke with Remy for a few moments, as Madison cleaned the dogs’ paws. Mrs. Grafton handed the doctor another bottle of wine and some wrapped parcels. The huntress helped him carry the items before Mrs. Grafton showed them a back staircase that they could utilize to get to their suite. Madison was eternally grateful to not have to parade back through the heart of the tavern.
Arriving back in their room, she shut the door behind them with a soft click. A heavy sigh escaped her as the dogs circled in front of the fire before collapsing happily. She needed to expel the nervous buzz beneath her skin and she paced until she thought to stoke the fire back to a dull roar, cracks and pops echoing in the otherwise quiet room. Turning, cerulean eyes caught sight of him sitting on the edge of the bed. Anxious heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, weary and drawn, but more handsome than the day she had pointed a deadly arrow directly at him. The fleeting idea brought a gentle smile to her face and she closed the distance between them.
“My love,” her voice a gentle whisper amongst the fire’s crackling. Ease found its way into her limbs now that it was just the pair of them, alone in the quiet. She slipped her slender frame between his legs so that she could get close enough to delicately brush his hair away from his forehead. Every movement she made was mindful of the undoubtedly sore wound. “What did she say to you? You looked as though you had seen a ghost.”
With Wallace safely upstairs under the watchful eye of the apothecary, Remy abruptly dropped the façade he’d donned for the boy’s sake. Worry now creased his brow in the wake of Ursulah’s intel, and he met Madison’s gaze urgently. His storm-blue eyes had darkened not only with creeping pain, but with a deep dread—one that had wrapped its spindly digits around his bones and refused to let go. He reached out for the young woman's hand, knitting his fingers with hers like a lifeline.
The huntress tugged him to his feet at the sound of approaching footsteps. From the kitchens emerged Mrs. Grafton, wringing her calloused hands, a large man in tow. Remy bristled reflexively at the sight of the burly man soldier strode after her into the parlor. Fine snowflakes clung to the coarse wool of his Watchman’s coat, the trail of his footfalls across the scuffed wooden floor marked with alternating clumps of mud and snow. Remy should have been reassured by the troubled, almost apologetic expression on Lieutenant Graham’s face as he approached—the capacity for sympathy and compassion was quickly tortured out of those indoctrinated by the Militia, if the recruits had ever possessed either quality in the first place—but with the fresh familiarity of the Watchman’s uniform, and his new awareness of his own conspicuously blank wrist, the doctor found he had to fight the instinct to flee.
Remy tightened his grip on Madison’s hand, a squeeze as much meant to ground himself as to reassure her. It had been a trying couple of hours for both of them, and he could tell—just as she could read the same in him—that she was itching to leave for the safety and privacy of their suite.
The broad-shouldered soldier removed his cap and bowed his head, his gruff voice saturated with a surprising amount of emotion. “We were just glad to have gotten there in time,” Remy replied, the steady strength in his voice belying his inner discomfort. “We will leave you to your search.”
Resecuring his hat atop his mess of dark curls, the man gave each of them a curt, respectful nod and departed wordlessly back through the kitchens. Madison moved to wrangle the excited pups, whose dense fur glittered with snowflakes and whose paws were caked with mud, while Remy pulled Mrs. Grafton aside. “Ursulah told me she’s staying with you and Wallace tonight,” the doctor said. “She knows what she’s doing. Your son is in good hands.” He explained the possibility of concussion, which spurned yet another round of tears, but reassured her that they were doing everything they could to keep him safe. “We expect he’ll make a full recovery,” Remy concluded.
The roil of anxiety that bubbled beneath his ribs reduced to a simmer only after they had returned safely upstairs, with the door latched behind them and the lock slid resolutely closed. The doctor lowered himself shakily to the edge of the bed, watching absently as Madison fed the fire and their canine companions flopped down near the hearth. Ursulah’s words played over and over again in his mind, an echo that didn’t want to fade—like the shriek of a falcon on an icy winter night. Be careful, Dr. Sterling, is what I say to you. You en’t in the mountains no more. I fear a treacherous road lies ahead for you and your wife.
The melody of the huntress’ whisper drew him from the tempest of his thoughts, and he drew her close, looking up into the familiar embrace of her azure eyes. “Oh, my love,” he whispered at the concern he saw reflected in her gaze, reaching up with a hand to cradle the side of her face. “Kiss me, will you, please?” The request was a drained murmur. His hand slipped from her cheek to her neck, drawing her down until her lips brushed his, featherlight and fleeting.
Madison’s presence was a balm, her warmth softening the edge of frigid uncertainty that had lodged itself in his chest. She was his partner, his teammate; they had vowed to face the future together, knowing full well that the only thing predictable about their world was the danger around every corner. But the huntress made him strong, made him better, made him whole—and he would walk through hellfire for her, defend her to the death. Whatever awaited them on their treacherous path. Some of the tension in his shoulders loosened, and he kissed her more deeply, wrapping his arms around her torso and pulling her in to his chest.
But Remy knew they needed to talk, so he pulled back with reluctance and reached up to brush a strand of escaped brown hair from her face. A heavy sigh lifted and dropped his shoulders. “Ursulah told me about the other Donaldson brother too,” he said quietly, glancing past Madison and back to the fire. “Apparently they’d been puppets for the Militia since they were old enough to join the Watch.” You en’t in the mountains no more. “She warned me that there’s been an increased Militia presence from here to Thebes, mostly thanks to those bastards. Looking for more than just deserters, but dissenters, which already complicates things. But she said the Donaldsons have personal connections with some of the higher ranks…and that the surviving brother might use those connections to hunt and make trouble for us, specifically.”
Another sigh. “And…” He held out his arm and tugged up the too-loose shirt sleeve, indicating his unmarked wrist. “I was lucky…she was sympathetic. But she knew to look. Christ, Madison, I thought…when she grabbed my hand, I thought I was done for. We were done for. How could I have been so careless?” He kept his eyes downcast, but he cradled one of her hands in his, running his fingertips over her knuckles. “I put you at risk. I can’t forgive myself for that.”
That was a request that she would happily oblige. The brush of their lips was beyond gentle, almost afraid and she sensed the underlying tension in his movement. His desire to squash it by sheer force of will resonated through her. Delicate hands slipped up into his hair, tangling them gingerly as he deepened their kiss. Heat flared up from her stomach as her chest pressed against him, head tilted down to keep their lips in contact. Large tangle of brown hair flipped against her shoulder and temporarily shrouded them in darkness - an escape from the swirling, tumultuous world around them.
Ever the pragmatist, Remy divulged the truth of what haunted him now. Concerned gaze flickered across his drawn features, one hand still in his hair, the other moving down to twine with his deft fingers. That same look cast downward to the exposed skin of his wrist, the only mark there a slender silver scar. That bare flesh was the only reason he was still alive now. If he had his temporary tattoo, his faux Militia mark, on the day they first met then she would have killed him nearly a year ago in the middle of the woods.
She withdrew her hand from his at his words. Delicately, she tilted his chin up to meet her eyes with a bent index finger. “Don’t be ridiculous. “ Madison chastised him with a soft voice. “We are in this together. There is only us. We were careless. We will not be so careless again.” Full lips captured his again, sweet and loving. It lingered for long, tender moment before she stepped away from him. “Together, Remy, forever. I love you. Now and until the day I die. Okay?”
The young huntress smirked slightly. “Besides, roadwalker, I can quite take care of myself.” She extricated herself fully from his grasp and moved over to her pack. Having lost all the earlier bashfulness, and in a small attempt to distract him from his brooding, she turned her back to him. Rummaging through the large pack, she withdrew two small items she had stowed away from their cabin when he had gone to retrieve her pack from the snow bank. Hiding them away with a devilishly grin as she passed him once more - dancing out of his grasp. “One second. One second.” She snuck behind the worn partition of the bathroom and changed. The pile of her tavern-appropriate clothing was reduced to a heap on the old tile. She drew on the black, silken bottoms and topped it with the vivid green cotton camisole. It was nothing like the crimson silk the doctor has selected from the tailor but it might be enough to draw his mind away from his dark musings.
Lithe form leaned in the doorway, waiting until he looked up at her. She attempted to raise one eyebrow suggestively and failed, laughing softly. Silent steps carried before him, scanning his oversized sweater and baggy pants. Standing before him, she drew his head back with a gentle fistful of his hair. Sapphire eyes bore into his, glimmering with all the passion, all the love she held for him. “I will not let those monsters steal away our last nights here. I will not let the Donaldsons stain what we have. I will not allow anyone to come between us. I meant it when I said it for the first time in our cabin, Remy.” Madison kissed him then, fervently, as though he was the oxygen keeping her alive. “I am yours and you are mine. Always. Every single part of you is mine.” She murmured the words against his lips, his legs on either side of her hips sending warmth pulsing across her stomach. Inches separated them now when she leaned back slightly. “From the scars to the terribly dull educational lectures,” Madison teased, knowing full well that they both relished her lessons “to your tendency to retreat into your thoughts. All of it, my love.”
Kisses pressed themselves to his lips, hurriedly, devouring, as if afraid that something did lurk for them beyond the mountains. Yet, although there was, she knew that each obstacle would be met together, conquered together. How lucky she was to have found him, her perfect compliment. “Now, are you going to bring those shades into our bed or are you just going to take me there?” She kissed him fleetingly again, smiling into the action. Retreating, Madison moved away from the bed’s end to climb between the rumbled sheets. She stacked three pillows behind her back propping herself up as she watching him. “Now would you please hurry up and just come here and kiss me?”
The lingering fear that consumed him now was not foreign; indeed, the knot in his gut was an all-too-familiar tightness nestled beneath his ribs. It was the sting of a close call, the fresh anxiety of an unbearable almost. But this seemingly simple oversight, this one careless transgression—a wrist bare but for a silvery scar—carried far more weight now than it might have before…before he had stumbled upon the young woman in the outskirts of Atlanta, before he had agreed to travel with her to Thebes…
Before he had fallen irrevocably in love with her.
“No,” he agreed vehemently, “we won’t be so careless again. I won’t be so careless again.” The doctor gazed up at her. A glimmer of light cut through the storm in his gaze, and their lips met once more. “I will do everything I can to keep you safe,” he whispered, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Okay? Everything. Anything.”
He pressed a kiss to her neck before she pulled away. “Come back,” he implored, smiling despite himself as she danced playfully out of his reach and disappeared into the washroom. His face promptly fell in her absence, the darkness of his thoughts shadowing his expression. Without the reassurance and distraction of her proximity, it was all too easy to lose himself in the shifting fog of worry.
It had been one thing when it was only his own life and freedom at risk. Now, Madison was in the proverbial—and possibly literal—line of fire, all by virtue of the lack of one tattoo…and, unbeknownst to the huntress, the damnable presence of another. She might not have needed his protection in the wilderness, but she certainly needed it now that they’d reached the fringes of civilization. Because whether she was aware of it or not, the best way to ensure Madison’s safety from the likes the Militia and its supporters was for Remy to be on top of his game—hyperattentive, hypervigilant, and quick-thinking. Three steps ahead at all times. Forgetting a detail as fundamental as his forged wrist mark was simply not acceptable. He’d been lucky. But it was only a matter of time before his luck ran dry…and by association, Madison’s.
That wasn’t to say that the huntress couldn’t take of herself. He knew she could. But what she didn’t know was that when she traveled with Remy Sterling, she also traveled with Remington Walther. She hadn’t asked for that. And it certainly wasn’t fair.
Tell her. The thought sprang to the forefront of his mind, unbidden and forceful. At the same time, he looked up, noticing her for the first time in the doorway. His breath hitched, caught between the shock of his thought and the unexpected sight of the sensuously-dressed huntress. She raised a suggestive brow and grinned at him. Swathed in deep, shimmering green and a pair of silk black shorts that emphasized the elegant length of her legs, her appearance stole the breath from his lungs and managed to halt his tempest of thoughts mid-gust.
Warmth blossomed in his chest, a fledgling spark that chased away the shadowy fears—precisely her intent. Remy reached for her slender waist as she approached, the luscious emerald cotton like cool water against his palms—an electrifying contrast to the warmth of her body beneath. “Oh, Madison,” he breathed, relishing the feel of her fingers in his hair. His heartbeat accelerated, and he leaned in closer, pressing his chest to her abdomen as their eyes locked. “You and me,” he repeated, the pressure of anxiety in his core replaced with a new, far preferable sort of tension. “I love you. Forever.”
She captured his mouth with an ardency that both surprised and thrilled him. He brought his legs tighter to either side of her hips, ignoring the sting of pain from his healing wound. She was right. They couldn’t allow the unfortunate events of the day to dampen the blaze that burned between them, to spoil a night not just of warmth and shelter, but of passion and love. This room was a sanctuary, a reprieve from an unkind and unjust world, and here, the only thing that mattered was her. Them. Together. As they would be until the end of days.
He felt her smile against her next fleeting kiss, and he relinquished his grasp upon her, rising to his feet as she pulled away. He smiled hungrily, watching as she climbed into the embrace of rumpled sheets and draped herself languorously across a small mountain of down pillows at the head of the bed. For a moment, he studied her, marveling not just at her beauty in the firelight, but at the fact that she was here…that they had managed to find one another at all, the piece that made the other whole. “I am the luckiest man in the whole fucking world,” he heard himself say aloud.
Remy’s soft smile sharpened to a smirk. He drew his oversized sweater over his head and discarded it on the floor, then eased off his trousers—with only gravity’s help, given they were three sizes too large. He stood before her in his t-shirt and briefs, bandage still wrapped securely around his thigh. “Kisses?” he drawled, stretching the word as if pondering the request. He took one step closer, lowering the knee of his uninjured leg to the edge of the mattress. “What if…” he went on, pulling down the sheets as he carefully made his way across the bed, “I had other things in mind?”
He brought his mouth close to hers, but then pulled away before their lips could brush. Deftly, he pulled at the hem of her camisole, sliding it daringly upward until it rested just below her breasts. He pressed his lips to her navel, soft kisses tracing a meandering path across her stomach. “I love you, Madison Gallow,” he breathed against her skin, drawing himself back up to plant a passionate kiss on her mouth. “Now,” he rasped, “tell me exactly where you’d like me to kiss you. Unless you’d rather one of my…what did you call them? Terribly dull lectures?”
Madison tried to maintain a playful but serious expression. It readily crumbled beneath his teasing, his lips and the heat flaring to life inside of her at his question. How was he so adept at turning the tables on her? She was a lump of pliable clay, easily molded by his deft, knowledgeable fingers. His words reduced her playful defenses to dust beneath him as he drew closer to her on the bed. The sheets disappeared as a physical barrier and the rate of her heart kicked up. Eager lips parted to accept a kiss that he did not deliver and she gave a soft, animalistic growl of frustration at him. He stoked the embers of an ever present to burn brightly inside of her without providing any actual fuel. The nerve of this man. She thought, albeit secretly delighted by his games, his taunts, his teases.
His mouth descended to her stomach and her muscles contracted without her permission. The huntress had to swallow a sudden moan to maintain some level of composure. She couldn’t let him have such a swift upper hand at all. That would only permit him time for more brooding before they fell asleep. No. She had a self-appointment mission to keep him from his dark reveries tonight and she’d be damned if she allowed him to do quickly reduce her to a puddle beneath his touch. And his mouth was on hers in a flash and she drew down his lower lip between her teeth as he retreated.
The husky rasp of his voice thrilled her, a delicious shiver trembling her limbs. Madison was incapable of adequately describing the way he made her feel with simple words and featherlight touches. The world spun as her heated gazed met his eyes, echoing her own desire. A slow breath drew between parted lips, attempting to steady her rapid pulse. “Perhaps I can instruct you on ways to make your lectures more...” she gave him a sultry grin, full of promise, “dynamic.” The word slipped out as a feline purr. She kept her eyes on his, searching them and finding the fire inside him flare to life. “Try and keep up, will you?” The words whispered between them as she settled into the pillows and mattress with a languid motion. Despite her outward facade, Madison’s mind raced to remember the muscles and bones of the body.
“Firstly, the mastoid process.” Stomach tightened at the sly grin that played his face as he immediately caught onto the type of instruction she was going to give. His mouth found the space just behind her earlobe. She inhaled sharply through her nose and began to list the places in a slow order. “Clavicle.” Madison twisted her fingers in the fitted sheet of the mattress to keep from tangling them in his hair. It was very important as the instructor of this lecture to not reveal how the nerves in her body were alight with desire. “Sternum.”
Remy was a very apt pupil and the edges of Madison’s control began to blur. “Linea alba.” A tremble ran through her as her mind fought to stay one step ahead of his lips, his hands. “External oblique.” The muscles tightened under him. “Iliac spine.” Heat exploded between her hips and spread upward along the base of her neck. A whimper escaped her. “You’re an excellent student so far.” She praised him in an attempt to remember the muscle that connected the hip to the inner thigh.
“Sartorius.” It came out in a slight stuttering, shaky breath. She could dissolve into him then, finding that she couldn’t love him more. It was not just physically (despite how apt he was at stoking her desire) - no, she loved his deep rooted brooding and his desire to protect her, cherish her. He was everything she never even considered she could possess. She had seen love through her parents but what the huntress felt for the doctor, what they shared between them was beyond anything she could explain. They were one soul in two bodies, different pieces of a damaged whole that would only be mended together.
“God.” It was barely even a whisper but it filled the silent space between them. It was not another location because she couldn’t find words. A tight heated knot had formed in the pit of her stomach. Madison was in no way religious but the doctor was convincing her that heaven might actually exist.
The huntress truly was his anchor in a stormy sea, and that had never been more apparent than now. She knew how to read him, knew how to rescue him—be it from bandits in the wood or the thick looming clouds that periodically gathered in his mind. Remy loved her for that and more. It didn’t matter where they crossed and where they differed; they had grown like impetuous vines—overlapping and diverging in succession only to twist tightly together again in the end. Two organisms rendered one, an unbreakable tangle made jointly stronger.
If distraction had been her goal—and he was quite certain it had—the earnest huntress had indisputably succeeded. And despite his tendency to cede to the anxious squall of his own thoughts, it was not those deep-rooted worries to whom Remy would submit that night…no, this time belonged to Madison, and her alone. The what-ifs and the almosts dissolved away, rendered to ash with little more than his lover’s smoldering gaze. Drawing upon her unbridled strength and love, his inner defenses held steadfast against the perpetual assault of his personal demons. She was the only one allowed to consume him.
A searing hot thrill ran like lightning down his limbs, electrifying each nerve until he thought his skin might catch flame. “A good teacher is always open to critique,” he hummed, his voice a breathy warmth against her neck. He lingered there for a tantalizing moment before pulling back, just far enough to meet her gaze. The wanton gleam he found in Madison’s azure eyes reflected the unbridled desire in his own, and his whole body quaked with a torturous anticipation he both couldn’t bear and couldn’t get enough of.
She repositioned herself against the down pillows, draping her lithe form before him in a tantalizing prelude to her evaluation. If anyone could demonstrate how to be more dynamic, it was Madison Gallow—a law unto herself, a great force to which he was honored to be privy. Hunger darkened his storm-blue gaze as he settled his own body over her, one arm on either side of her torso, poised and awaiting instruction. The mastoid process. Never had a medical term dripped with such seduction. Without missing a beat, he pressed his lips behind her ear, drawing his mouth slowly downward even as she spoke again: Clavicle.
Now this was feedback that he was very eager to receive—and to put into practice.
Sternum. He maintained his descent at such a pace that it wasn’t clear whether he was responding to her prompts, or she to the ministrations of his exploring lips. Linea alba. Of course, it mattered little; Remy barely heard her voice, so focused was he on Madison’s body—the small shivers, the involuntary tense of a muscle, the increasing pace of her breaths. Never mind the thunder of his own accelerating pulse. External oblique. Iliac spine. He looked up from his position at her abdomen, making knowing eye contact as he correctly identified her final vocalized request. Sartorius. Deftly, he ran his fingers along the hem of her black satin shorts, pausing for a moment before he inched them down, down, down and out of the way. The whimper that escaped her lips sent a flare of heat rocketing through his core, and a devious smile bloomed against her skin as he continued to move, downward, then inward…
“Pectineus,” he rasped, spoken softly against the warm skin of her inner thigh. But he couldn’t be sure she’d heard him at all. Long ago, in the plush warmth of the mountain cabin, he had made a promise—to protect her, to stay with her, to love her. And, when the time came, to savor her.
Remy was nothing if not a man of his word.
All the anatomical names fell away from his consciousness then, and he could think only of her. He loved her more than any word or gesture could communicate. The woman he loved deserved every scrap of happiness the cruel world had to offer, and he would never cease trying to give her that. The fact that he might be a source of her joy, her comfort, her pleasure, was fuel on the embers that forever glowed for her in the deepest recesses of his person.
Beyond the drawn curtains of their sanctuary, the night deepened. But this was no frigid darkness plagued by snarling beasts unseen. This was a warm summer’s night whose dancing shadows held no malevolence, but rather were cast by impassioned bodies in tandem—sprawling fervent and fiery in the blaze they kindled for one another. Even as the physical fire in their suite calmed to a lazy smolder, even as the two lovers entwined and collapsed and slept and roused and started all over again, the furnace within them burned impossibly hot. The world beyond those four safe walls simply did not exist.
They woke with the dawn to a cool hearth and wrestling, hungry dogs. Remy slipped his t-shirt over his shoulders and untangled himself from the sheets, pulling open the curtains to greet a hazy pink morning. The tiredness he felt behind his eyes was a good kind of tired. He hobbled carefully to add another log to the fireplace, glancing affectionately at Madison as they both got ready for what was likely their final day in the village.
His leg hurt far less. He unwound the bandage from his thigh and inspected the stitched seam, satisfied to find no sign of further bleeding or infection. Working efficiently, he redressed the wound and pulled on his oversized trousers—and just in time, too, for Mrs. Grafton made an appearance outside their door with a cart for breakfast, and news that the tailor would be finished with their garments earlier than expected. “Mr. Hastings will expect you when you’ve finished with your breakfast,” she reported, her eyes, as usual, watery with emotion. “At your convenience, o’ course.”
Remy took a bite of a flaky, crescent-shaped pastry that melted on his tongue. “Oh, shit, try one of these,” he exclaimed, surprised by the buttery, extravagant flavor of a pastry so simple in appearance. “How many of these do you think we could fit in our packs?” He chewed slowly and swallowed, washing the croissant down with black tea that was almost too hot to drink. When he spoke again, his voice was lower, bittersweet. “We could be on the road as soon as noon, if the tailor really is done,” he said seriously. Though the doctor was loath to leave their sanctum and all the warmth and luxuries that came with it, he was beginning to feel the familiar pangs of restlessness—a deep need to keep on the move, drilled into them by necessity. “Unless you want to stay longer?” he added, although he knew the answer before he asked. “See what other sweets Mrs. Grafton knows how to make?”
His name exploded from her lips in surprise at the final anatomical term exchanged between them. One hand twisted the sheets so forcefully in her ecstasy that the fitted sheet pulled up from the lower right side of the large bed they shared. Everything dissolved away in a syrupy slow blur at the edges of her awareness. Madison’s focus faltered and she was washed by waves of overwhelming pleasure. All she knew was him and his tantalizingly proficient mouth.
The night enveloped them in its protective embrace, keeping their explorations private. They tangled together over and over and over again. As she stretched, watching him from her position on the mattress, the doctor’s wife could not recall precisely how many times they created pleasure for each other. A lazy smile played her mouth as she felt a familiar heat spread across her bare hips. Just staring at him as he went about preparing for their day was enough to rekindle her inner fire. Licking her lips, she frowned at his oversized pants clothing his body.
Extricating herself from their sheets, Madison retrieved her discarded shorts and cotton top. As she drew the silky, midnight fabric between her fingers she heard a raspy whisper of memory. Pectineus. A shiver ran down her spine and she cast a sidelong glance at him. Despite her constant need for her companion, she began to move about their day. She dressed herself in her inner layer of warm clothing as Mrs. Grafton arrived, for once not interrupting something they were in the middle of.
Sliding over to him, she slipped her body against his as she stole a bite of the buttery confection straight from his deft fingers. That same insatiable desire resulted in her licking some of the buttery crumps directly from his pointer finger. Madison smiled devilishly as she took the steaming tea for herself and another delectable pastry from the plate. “Mmmm,” she hummed as she ate and appeared to consider his question. They both knew that last night was their final in their little slice of paradise and what a night it was. Each touch, each whisper, each laugh, each moan was burned into her memory. “If only. Though I can promise you that Mrs. Grafton’s pastries would not be what convinced me to stay.” Bright blue eyes darted to the disheveled bed and lingered for a long moment. She could see their tangled limbs, their hands, their mouths. Blinking, she turned her gaze back to him.
“I love you, Remy Sterling and I....” Madison looked back again at the bed, taking in the whole room as she did so. “I can’t believe that we’re...” A little laugh left her before she took a slow sip of the piping hot tea. “It feels harder to say how I feel when light is streaming in and there’s so much physical space between us. Is that stupid?” She looked to the fire he had coaxed back to life and tossed some plain pieces of bread to the dogs. Rising from her small respite in the high-backed chair, she closed the distance between them and stroked his hair back from his eyes. “Even if I don’t know the right things to say, just remember that I love you more than anything in this terrible world. And if you wanted to stay here, I would.” She kept their eyes locked.
“For you.”
And she meant it. The realization hit her the moment the words left her lips. A punch directly in her stomach. For years her sole purpose, her life’s mission, was to see the men that had killed her parents bleeding out on the ground at her feet - to end the Commander’s life. But for Remy she would do anything. Anything.
He watched her across the table, steam from the scalding tea billowing in lazy clouds between them. It wasn’t something either of them had to say out loud; each knew, reflexively, that the restlessness in their bones was mirrored in the other, and that determination would always win out over complacency. Yet he had to voice the question, just as she had to answer—it had been the same at the cabin. Because they would always stay, should the other ask. But the other never did, for despite the solace and the joy and the unadulterated pleasure, the siren call of Madison’s—and now Remy’s—mission was always humming, pulling, in the backs of their minds. And no one wanted her to succeed more than the cruel man’s son himself.
Remy had never met a more driven individual than his impetuous companion…except perhaps the villain she hunted. But of course, Madison was nothing like his father. She was fierce and strong, yes, but she was also warm and loyal and loving, things the commander had never been and could never be. A prickle of dread raised gooseflesh on his neck. Whatever awaited them in Thebes, the pair would face it together. And should the worst happen, and Madison be rendered unable to complete her task, Remy vowed to complete it for her…and to watch triumphantly as the life seeped from his father’s eyes.
He set down his tea as she sidled to him from the other side of the table, leaning into her presence as though it were the fire on the hearth. Still, a delighted shiver traversed his spine as her fingers swept the hair from his eyes. “You always say the right things,” he reassured her, the steadfast gleam in his blue-gray gaze affirming his words. He reached up to run a finger, featherlight, down the side of her cheek, and smiled softly. “I love you. In the dark, in the light. At dawn. At high noon.” He slid his hand to the back of her neck and tugged her gently toward him until their lips brushed. “At midnight. Always. And when you can’t find the words…I’ll fill in the blanks.”
They reluctantly parted to finish packing their belongings. The dogs, excited by the sudden flurry of activity, wrestled near the foot of the bed in a tumble of long limbs and brown fur. Remy rearranged his pack to make his bandage-change supplies more accessible—his leg was feeling remarkably better, which was a testament to his pupil’s skill under pressure—and began to lace up his boots. Although it was certainly bittersweet to be departing the luxuries of the Grafton Inn, donning his layers of leather and wool and fur brought a familiar comfort…like coming back to himself. He grinned at Madison as he rose to his feet, looking far more like the wild man he’d been two days prior…sans the beard and the grime. “Ready?” he asked.
With the dogs trotting excitedly at their heels, they made their way downstairs for the last time. With the novelty of their presence slightly worn with the dawn, they were greeted mostly with stares and nods from a decidedly thinner morning crowd, with one older woman raising a silent glass as they passed. Remy and Madison glanced simultaneously to the kitchen doors, half-expecting Mrs. Grafton to sense their presence and materialize at the threshold in tears. When she did not, they exchanged knowing nods and slipped unceremoniously out the door. It was best, Remy figured, to leave without a fuss—they had thanked her for her kindness already, and it wouldn’t serve anyone in wake of the previous day’s drama to make another emotional scene.
The tailor’s storefront was across the street, three doors from the apothecary. The early hour meant the road and sidewalks were blissfully empty, and when the pair entered the small shop, they were alone. A small bell announced their presence, however, and soon enough, a familiar young woman’s face appeared from the back. Her eyes locked with Remy’s for a split second, and she halted so abruptly in surprise that her father, Mr. Hastings, collided with her back.
“What in heaven’s name, child—” he sputtered, catching sight of Remy and Madison. “Oh! The Sterlings. Good mornin’ to you.”
Penelope, whose cheeks glowed bright crimson even in the dimness, retreated behind her vexed father as though to use him as a shield. “Penny, go fetch their finished wares. That is, if you wouldn’t mind making yourself useful this fine day,” he told her, shaking his head to himself.
Despite the early hour and his apparent exasperation with his daughter, the man was impeccably dressed; the only sign of dishevelment was the pair of crooked silver spectacles low on his nose. He removed them and folded them into his pocket, meeting Remy’s and Madison’s gazes in turn without the barrier of thick lenses. “I think Mrs. Grafton was hopin’ you two would stick around,” he mused. “What with the way she was goin’ on about the both of you. I can see you’re on your way gone. Well, any friends of the Graftons are friends of the Hastings family, too. I hope to see you again one day. Perhaps…” His expert gaze slid from Madison’s bear coat, which seemed to meet with his approval, to Remy’s rougher outerwear, which apparently did not. “Perhaps next time I’ll have the pleasure of making the doctor a new coat.”
Every word he said was the best balm to all of her wounds – he always knew what the say to ease the anxious tension that constantly hummed in her limbs. The idea to take him before the fire flickered through her mind like a flame in the wind before snuffed out by logic. If she did, if they spent another passionate moment within this room, Madison might ask him to stay, to build a cabin on the outskirts of this town. They would hunt and he would doctor the town’s residents. And perhaps...perhaps Remy might wed her.
Finding the Hastings’ residence was relatively easy with the large, hand-painted sign that hung above the brass door, signified with writing as well as needle, thread and scissors. The tinkling of the door chime brought the familiar visage of Penelope from the back office. Madison smirked at the startled expression on the lovestruck girl’s face. It took a significant amount of control to keep from laughing at the startled and delighted expression on the seamstress’ face. The huntress could not blame him, after all, he was quite something to behold.
“She did make it difficult to leave, with the pastries alone I thought she might be trying to slow us down by fattening us up.” The words flowed out of her easily, as though she might be talking to Remy. Their time over the past few days had made it easier to interact…in smaller settings at least. Madison did permit herself to laugh then, at the tailor’s astute examination of Remy’s outer coat. “I think that might be in order if we ever pass through again, though you have done so much for us already.”
“The barest minimum.” He said with a wave of his hand, just as Penelope returned with the items wrapped in brown paper and tied with a beautiful crimson silk ribbon. She held it out to the doctor as though they were the only two people in the entire shop. A bright blush dappled her cheeks that made Madison bring her hand over her mouth to cover the sly grin that appeared there. Blue eyes danced merrily as her companion took it. Penelope held on for moments longer until her father cleared his throat.
“Thank you, so much, for all that you’ve done for us. These will be very appreciated.” She said when the girl finally relinquished the package to its rightful owner. The pair said their goodbyes and their thanks, Penny’s eyes growing misty at the idea of never setting her gaze upon the doctor again. Remy, Madison and their dogs departed the village. The huntress looked over her shoulder at the wooden buildings, smoke billowing from their chimneys and dissolving into the overcast sky. A knot tightened itself into her stomach at the though of all they had done in this town, all they could have had if they had stayed. Remy whispered her name and grasped her hand, and so Madison turned her back on the town and moved towards Thebes.
The days melted into weeks and each one grew warmer as summer peeked around the corner. Madison no longer needed her bear coat – two shirts and a sweater being more than sufficient. Damien and Magnolia began to profusely shed their winter coats, leaving an easily trackable trail of dark and light hairs in their wake. They practiced and hunted and learned throughout their travels. Remy grew more proficient with the bow, even if it was never something he longed to master. One rainy night they had constructed their makeshift tent again and found warmth in each other despite the weather. The pragmatist in the huntress would not allow herself too many moments of abandon as it might give someone the opportunity to take advantage of their compromised state…but she also found him too alluring to resist at each turn.
Thebes loomed before them as they rounded a hill a day’s – maybe two – walk from the Commander’s capital. She stood still, on the precipice of something intangible, between sparsely dotted trees and shrubs in the full bloom on the spring. “We should camp for the night. Move towards the city tomorrow.” Tumultuous blue eyes searched their surroundings carefully, trying to find a secluded spot that would permit them one night’s respite before what was the come.
Madison moved about with practiced ease, setting up their camp in a little copse of trees. Night settled over them and she settled down onto a folded blanket. She withdrew her brush from her pack and unwound her hair slowly, running deft fingers between the strands to make sure they did not tangle further. A weight hung inside of her chest and she set her eyes on him, to soothe her. Watching him prepare their food (rabbit that they had just killed), she set about brushing her hair. Stroke after stroke reduced her long hair to soft waves. It had been nearly two years since she had last cut it and it hung over halfway down her back. “Try to not overcook it this time, hmmm?” She teased, smiling a bit, and attention turning suddenly towards the large buildings that awaited them.
“We’re so close. I can’t…it’s taken me so long. And I…” Absently, she brushed her hair again, with more deliberate strokes but not well, tangle settling at the end.
The bell on the tailor’s door announced their departure with a tinny jingle that reverberated in the empty streets like the last birdsong in autumn—cheerful in the brisk air, yet heralding the end of an era. Remy’s gloved hand found Madison’s and squeezed it tight. Their next chapter began with these next steps, and whatever the future had in store for the unlikely duo, there was no one else he’d rather have at his side.
The dread he’d felt after Ursulah’s warning resettled in his chest as they steadily made their way out of the village. They followed the road until they cleared the last of the buildings, then veered off-trail to pick their way through the woods far out of sight and sound of regional traffic. The pair found their rhythm again easily, and despite the ache in his leg and the worries on his mind, it felt good to be back in the forest air.
Remy’s wound healed more with each passing day, but still their pace was slow to accommodate his pain. He could sense Madison’s eagerness to proceed; it was a fire that burned hotter with each mile closer to the capital, and he could see the determination gleam in her eyes when her thoughts were far away. Nevertheless, the huntress held back for him, never once complaining about her occasional role of physical crutch at the end of strenuous days, always noticing when his limp became more pronounced or his gait faltered. When at last it came time to remove the sutures, he breathed a sigh of relief. The bright, healthy pink of the forming scar was proof that the marred flesh had properly knitted back together, the risk of infection was significantly lower, and the pressure of the thread in his working muscle was finally gone.
It wasn’t long afterwards that they began to make swift progress. With the kinder weather, smoother terrain, and the longer daylight hours of spring, the pair covered a significant amount of ground. The dogs continued to grow larger and stronger despite the heavy coats they shed, and their training sessions continued every evening before dinner until the humans were satisfied the lessons had stuck.
Despite the warnings, however, they had been fortunate not to cross paths with any other travelers in the wood—and encountered suspiciously few signs of Militia activity. Either the remaining Donaldson brother was not as influential as the townsfolk had assumed, or he had been unable to track them. Of course, they weren’t about to let down their guards; they still took turns each night keeping watch, and they kindled fires only when necessary to cook a fresh catch and replenish their food supply. But the fact of the matter was that Thebes loomed less than a day’s trek away, and Remy believed that the capital city posed a far more probable threat at this point than a grieving and vengeful mountain-town Watchman.
The doctor knelt by the small fire, slicing the rabbit meat into narrow strips that would cook quickly over the weak flames. “Overcook it? Me?” he retorted with mock offense, flashing the huntress a grin as he cleaned his knife. His gaze softened as he watched her, her long, loose locks glinting golden in the shifting light as she ran the brush down her hair. While their dinner slowly sizzled, Remy shifted to sit nearer to her, following her stare to the horizon before settling back on her uncertain expression. A knot of anxiety formed in his stomach. It wasn’t often that Madison’s confidence wavered, and when it did, the doctor wanted nothing more than to build her right back up again. But this time…
They were so close to Thebes. So close that it illuminated the night sky to the east beyond the budding tree canopies. The sensation in Remy’s chest was a magnetic one—the city called to him somehow, as though returning to his birthplace had always been inevitable, yet at the same time it repelled him with such force that it felt like a kick to the gut. And Madison was none the wiser, striding toward her goal with a man whose identity was far more than she ever bargained for. She looked to him now for reassurance…but could he truly give that to her? How could he let her do this without knowing?
Tell her. The two words that had haunted him for weeks since they left the Graftons resurfaced in his thoughts again now, breaking through his consciousness like a stormy sea crashing upon a rocky shore. “Madison.” The huntress’ name left his lips in a whisper. Her brush caught on tangles that had formed at the ends of the brunette strands, and she looked to him with that same doubtful countenance. “Here,” he said, extending his hand and nodding to the brush. “Let me.”
He moved behind her, tenderly running his fingertips over her silken hair before bringing the brush to the knotted strands. She couldn’t see his furrowed brow or the sudden pallor in his cheeks, couldn’t detect the tremble in his fingertips. “I love you, Madison Gallow,” he murmured, leaning closer to her ear when he spoke. “The fact that you’ve made it this far…everything you’ve faced and survived until now has prepared you for this. And I may still be hopeless with a bow, but you have me on your side. Always. I need you to believe that…I need you to know that.” He trailed off, running the bristles down the length of her tresses. His breath caught as he inhaled. “I…I need to tell you something, Madison. About my family. I…”
A sudden hiss sputtered from the pot over the fire, startling him. And then another. And another. In the time it took Remy to realize what was happening, the spring deluge was upon them—swollen raindrops only partially blocked by the tree branches above.
The gentle sizzle of minimal rabbit fat dropping into soft orange flames was soothing. This was the life that she had always known and would always come back to. The quiet was punctuated by the day’s kill roasting and the rustle of trees as they whispered to one another in their forest. Night began to settle around them, darkening the sky but leaving Thebes illuminated by the multitude of people that inhabited Northam’s capital city. Cerulean eyes scanned the horizon as the brush ran through tangles of golden brown hair. He broke her from her thoughts with the hum of her name against his lips. She turned towards him, pausing mid-stroke. Surprised eyes glanced down at his proffered hand and almost in that same shock, she handed her prized possession over to him to use.
The second his fingers brushed against her strands, Madison permitted her eyes to close. Her mother used to brush her hair and discuss their day, hum, or just sit in companionable silence. It had been so long since someone had brushed her hair for her and she felt a tightness constrict her chest. The burn of tears stung behind her closed lids and she struggled to tamp them down. “I love you, roadwalker.” She murmured in response, keeping her eyes close because she knew the moment she opened them tears would stream down her face. His breath was warm against her ear as his hands worked on her knots. Each word played at her heartstrings, plucking them as if she were a violin fashioned just for his fingers. He was clearly determined to make her cry. I need to tell you something. Something hissed and she missed his next sentence and then another hiss and another and suddenly she was soaking wet.
Madison immediately darted towards the fire and a bowl, hurriedly retrieving their meal as rain soaked her sweater and hid the few tears that squeezed from her eyes. Necessity overtook sentiment. Emotions squashed down and the urge to cry abandoned her. Food salvaged, she hurried darted under the tarp that they had fortunately constructed to sleep under to prevent being coated in a fine layer of pollen by the time they awoke. Remy had secured the dogs and their packs beneath it. They worked so efficiently together, but despite their speed they were drenched to the bone.
Blue eyes caught his appearance and she laughed, sitting down on her sleep bag with the food (just a tad damp) in her hand. “You look worse than Damien does.” She said, jerking her head to the irritated dog that was gently shaking off his fur (knowing better than to shake violently to dry himself). His appearance reminded her of the Grafton’s bath. Long wet hair clinging to his neck and a beard covered his face. He had kept it slightly trimmed but he had been unable to utilize the straight razor since their departure. In all honesty, she preferred him with a bit of facial hair – even if it was dripping water onto his shirt now. “Well that was unexpected.” She admitted over the downpour around them, causing their covering to sag slightly and drip down the back and away from their sitting area.
Laughing again, she tossed some of their meal to the dogs and set the rest aside. Settling, the words he had said came back to her – how much he loved her, would protect her despite his bow and arrow inadequacies. Flooded by the recent memory, Madison smiled and bit her lip before speaking. “I really enjoy when you brush my hair.” The confession slipped from her mouth and red dappled her cheeks. Even after all they shared and murmured to each other, she still felt sheepish around him at times when she said things like that. “Almost as much as your recent anatomical lectures. You have improved significantly since your last critique.” Gaze turned from embarrassed to sultry in an instant and she didn’t understand why some things felt more intimate said aloud than others. “Perhaps when we get to Thebes we can take one day before…” hand motioned absently in the air to indicate her lifelong goal “to spend in a rented room like we did after the tailors visited…”
Turning away, she divided their food between them and handed him his slightly wet roast rabbit. “Good thing is, I don’t think the rain gave you the opportunity to overcook it.” The tease made her giggle and she placed one of the thinly sliced pieces in her mouth, ignoring the way her stomach protested and wished for the extravagant kitchens of the Grafton Tavern. “Oh.” She mumbled through a mouthful of rabbit and a bit of torn jerky. “What were you saying when the rain started? I couldn’t hear a thing over the fire.” The flames were gone and the wood was wet, leaving only a faint ghost of steam in memory of its warmth.
Whether it was by fate’s design or simply cosmic coincidence, the burst of spring rain that stymied Remy’s confession came with such intensity that there was no time to complete his thought. They sprang into action so synchronized it could have been a dance—retrieve the pot and the meal, protect their packs and blankets, and dive breathlessly beneath the ragged tarp they’d thankfully hung earlier that evening.
The pups leapt to their feet in the excitement, but soon realized that rain meant wet, and the sensation of soaked long fur slicked tight and cold against their lean bodies was not worth the remote possibility of an extra morsel. Damien seemed more upset than Magnolia, who tugged playfully at her brother’s lowered ears and earned an irritated growl in response. She retreated, unbothered by her siblings’ attitude, tail wagging fast enough to send droplets flying in Damien’s direction.
Roiling clouds of steam billowed from the fire as the deluge assaulted the flames, the water taming the heat until it was hardly more than a low vermilion smolder beneath the pyramid of thick logs. It glowed feebly through the mist, providing them a glimmer of light even if it had extinguished the heat.
Tell her. A shiver shook Remy’s shoulders, but he couldn’t tell if it was the sudden chill of the damp or the cold rush of adrenaline at what he’d been about to say. If he listened intently enough to the rhythm of the rain on their tarpaulin shelter, it was almost as if the droplets were whispering those accursed words over and over. Tell her, tell her, tell her. He swallowed hard. No, he wanted to say—scream—to the raindrops. That’s not me. It’s never been me.
His long hair had come unbound in the flurry of activity and stuck now to his face and jaw, sending rivulets down his neck; he focused on that sensation instead, clinging to the feel of the icy droplets under his collar. Grateful for the dimness that concealed the pallor in his face, he looked to Madison and couldn’t help but smile. She, too, was soaked to the bone, her brunette tresses rendered ebony with moisture. “I think it’s safe to say Damien is not a water dog,” he declared, chuckling with a false humor he did not feel.
He looked to the thin strips of rabbit meat Madison offered him and felt his stomach turn, but he took his due morsels anyway, knowing he needed the protein to keep his strength up. Nevertheless, he grinned at her quip about the storm preventing him from overcooking the meat. “A rented room,” he mused, humming his approval even as his mouth went dry. “With a hot meal that I didn’t cook. A bottle of wine. A cozy bed. Some more lessons…”
Despite himself, a flash of warmth blossomed in his core at the prospect of more amorous nights between crisp sheets. Perhaps he had been foolish. Telling her now would only distract her from her mission. Telling her now would create a rift between them that he wasn’t sure they could repair. Telling her now could put her in danger in Thebes. Telling her now might mean losing her forever despite their exchanged promises. There were a hundred reasons to keep his silence—a hundred excuses, another part of him chastised—so why did he feel so miserable, so guilty? Which was the more grievous sin, he wondered—a lie by omission, or a technical truth that was no longer relevant to his life and never would be again?
“Oh, it was nothing,” he said dismissively, forcing down his last bite of dinner when Madison asked him to finish his interrupted thought. His pulse skyrocketed, heartbeat slamming against his ribs with an anticipation that he quickly tamped down. He reached up to run his hands through his damp hair, combing through the snarls with his fingers. “But…maybe I could brush your hair again?” It was both a statement and a question. He reached out to touch the wet strands, allowing them to fall delicately across his palm. “Since my fine work was so rudely muddied up by this storm.”
He leaned forward, planting a soft kiss on her forehead, and retrieved her brush from the top of her pack. Running the bristles through wet tresses was an entirely different—and admittedly more difficult—experience, but he took his time, working at any snags with gentle care until the locks were nearly completely dry. It helped to be positioned behind her as he waited for the adrenaline of his near-confession to wane, where she couldn’t see the line of his knitted brow or detect the slight tremble in his arms.
“I’m afraid plaiting isn’t one of my many skills,” he whispered in her ear, the words teasing but his tone sultry. “I’m going to have to leave that up to your very talented hands.”
They prepared for sleep with some reluctance, motivated by the prospect of another night’s stay at an inn in Thebes. Wet though they still were, nights no longer got so frigid as to threaten hypothermia in fewer layers; but that didn’t mean the damp was comfortable. Remy took first watch, with Madison nestled against him on one side and the dogs on the other. He wondered, as he stared unblinkingly into the inky black underbrush, how he’d managed to get so fortunate. Whatever the dawn would bring, whatever Thebes had in store for them in the coming days, it seemed to matter so little right now—it would all have been worth this, his little family, these moments of bliss that he would forever keep in his heart. Perhaps the truth of his identity could come later, when all the dust was settled, when the Walther name was nothing more than an etching above a mausoleum door.
The rain eased up a couple of hours later, leaving behind a dense fog that hung in the thick air like a curtain. He woke Madison with a kiss pressed to her temple when it was time for them to switch, and they traded positions, Remy resting his head on her lap and drifting swiftly, and surprisingly, to sleep.
