Aghast, I almost shouted to the treetops, “I do not snore.”

He snorted. “Okay.”

“I don’t.” Rorn had never said I snored. I’d only asked a million times when I’d woken to find him smirking down at me as though I’d sung a terrible ballad in my sleep. Then again, if he excelled at one thing, it was duplicity.

Rather than think it sweet that he’d tried to save me from embarrassment, a fresh wave of anger scraped at my innards.

Scythe pulled the axe from the stump like one would a knife through warmed butter, and I had to wonder if much escaped the commander when he started to say with barely veiled humor, “It’s not that bad, wild—”

“Don’t,” I warned before I could stop myself, my fingers joining and clenching in my lap.

He turned to face me with his head tilted, the axe falling limp at his side. “Don’t what?”

“Lie.”

He watched me for three failed breaths. Then he nodded, spinning the axe in his hands with a crooked smile. “You snore like a drunk bumblebee.”

I rolled my lips between my teeth to keep from smiling in return and failed. “I suppose that isn’t too terrible.”

“Compared to a camp of wolves?” He grinned wide and swung the axe in a loop. “Pure bliss to the ears, wildflower,” he said gruffly and plucked up another hunk of wood to hack.

Content to watch him, although I knew it was wrong to indulge even more than I already had, I did just that. Though it soon became apparent it wasn’t merely the flex of his muscles that captured my unwavering attention or the tendrils of dark hair that escaped the leather tie at his nape to lick at his peppered jawline.

It was him.

Something about this blunt and violent warrior of few words put me at ease and drowned me in a strange heat that had nothing to do with wanting to bed him. Though I couldn’t deny that I wanted to bed him until the stars ceased to return and that I held little to no regret for having done so many times already.

Stars save me. The shame I felt was due to not feeling ashamed at all.

“So,” the wolf said, startling me a little, “ready to tell me why you’re visiting Vordane?”

Stunned, I blurted foolishly, “What makes you think I’m not from here?”

He didn’t answer, and fear tapped softly at my chest.

He knew, and with enough certainty that I felt more foolish for believing he would think me one of his fellow crimson fae. “Is that why you’re letting me stay?” I pressed hesitantly. “Because you wish to know what I’m doing here?”

He was quiet for so long that I didn’t know if he’d answer.