He pulls me closer to him, our bodies now pressed together. I can feel the heat of his skin through my clothes. He's so feverish. So sick. I shouldn't be pushing him like this, but I can't let him slip away from me, and that's what I fear will happen if I don't break through this wall he's put up between us.

"You are not wrong." He uses one hand to cup my cheek. His gaze is penetrative, and I stay still, my breath threading through me in the smallest of movements, my body on fire, every nerve hyper-alert.

I see so much in his blue eyes. So many years of living. So much pain. So much sadness. But also so much strength. So much kindness. So much untapped tenderness. I want more than anything to reach into his soul and pull it out of the self-imposed darkness and into the light.

He leans in and presses his lips to mine. I shiver as our mouths connect. His hand moves from my face to the back of my head as he buries his fingers in my hair and pulls me closer. His other hand wraps around my waist and splays against my back. I let myself relax into his body, as I straddle his lap, my chest pressed against his, my arms wrapping around his neck.

The kiss deepens, taking on a life of its own as our bodies come to life with each other. Our breath merges, and the urgency of our need dances through our skin, infecting us with wild abandon.

I grip his neck harder, my fingers tugging on his hair, my desire clawing through me like a starving creature in need of air, life.... him.

He tastes of mint leaves, and his scent is wild, earthy. I can't get enough of him, of this, of everything I feel when I'm with him.

His hands explore my body, and I push myself closer to him, adjusting myself on top of him. I know he wants me as much as I want him.

Now. Here. In the middle of a storm. In a cave by a fire.

He moves from my mouth to my neck and ear, kissing, nibbling, sucking. I groan against him, my face buried in his neck. He lifts me effortlessly and repositions us so that I'm on my back. He leans over me, his body pressed between my legs. His hair falls around his face as he looks at me in the firelight. "We do not have to do this."

I reach up to grip his neck and pull his face to mine. "I want you, Fenris Vane. Now."

A growl rumbles deep in his throat, and he kisses me again. His body is hot. Too hot.

Something is wrong.

He pulls away and rolls onto his back. He starts to shake. His throat is tight. He's choking!

I sit up and lean over him. "Fen! What's wrong?"

His body convulses, and he coughs up foam and blood. His eyes lose focus, and he grows paler.

"Fen! What do I do? What's happening?"

"The poison," he says through crimson lips. "Something in the blood."

Oh god. He looks about to pass out, or worse. Baron comes over to us, whining and growling. He lies next to his master and places his large paws on Fen's chest, then looks up at me with such a human expression of sadness, fear and pleading my heart nearly breaks.

I look around for something sharp and find a small knife in my pack. I hold my wrist over Fen's mouth, take a deep breath, and slice my skin open with the blade.

The cut is deep. I clench my jaw to not cry out in pain. But the blood is flowing. I push it closer to his mouth.

He has lost all reason. His eyes are closed. He no longer moves.

"Drink my blood," I tell him, tears pooling in my eyes. There are ways to kill immortals, Fen told me. Did the raiders find one?

My blood dribbles out of his mouth. He's not taking it. "Drink!" I scream at him, pushing my wrist into his mouth and holding his head up with my other hand so the blood goes down his throat.

I don't know how long the bleeding will continue. I'm ready to cut my wrist again if he doesn't wake up.

I'm close to it, raising my dagger, when he moves, his mouth gripping on, sucking the blood out of me. It's working. He's waking up. He's drinking.

Now all I can do is pray this heals him before it kills me.

Chapter 14

PRINCESS ARIANNA

"You are the chosen one, there is a prophecy, and danger, and, of course, my sexy charms."

—Asher

I am cold. So cold. I can't stop shivering. I've wrapped my wrist, but the bandages keep bleeding through.

Our fire is dying, and we are nearly out of wood.

Fen's fever seems to have abated. His color is returning, and he's breathing well, but he hasn't woken. His wounds are healing though. Now I just have to find a way to not die of hypothermia while we wait out this storm and his recovery.

Baron stays by Fen's side, keeping him warm and watching over him like a worried mother.

I cross my arms over my chest in a vain attempt to warm myself by the meager fire. It won't take long to burn out and the storm still rages outside. Surely someone would have sent scouts out to look for us? But could they even travel in this weather?

I look down at the blood seeping through my bandages again and sigh. This wound won't heal quickly, but it might have saved Fen's life, so I have no regrets. This world, this kingdom, needs him.

I need him.

I also need more fire.

I stand and walk to the cave's opening. It looks miserable out there. A flurry of snow has piled at the exit to the point that we are almost trapped.

"Baron, I need your help to get out of here. We need more wood."

He comes over quickly, and I point to the snow blocking our escape.

He understands my intention and begins digging, making me a path. I follow him through to the other side. I have never felt so cold in my life as I crawl through a snow bank.