Page 99 of Tin God
The ground opened before him, emptying into a round chamber he’d lined with rocks and some of the furs he’d taken from the house.
As the earth settled around them and rested, Carwyn tossed Brigid on the pile of furs and blankets he’d made up to use as a bed, then went to light a small lamp in the corner. “You can sleep here.”
She lifted her head, and her eyes went wide. “Are you gonna leave me buried in the ground?”
“Of course not, you idiot,” he snarled at her. “I mean, yes, but I’ll be here with you.”
He felt her energy rise, the faint smell of steam as her skin heated up.
“Don’t!” He bent down and got in her face. “You are safe here. Stop doubting me and trust your mate.”
“I know I’m safe with you.” Her voice was small.
“Your fire doesn’t.” He reached for a wet rag he kept on the table and wiped his face. Then he tossed another one to her. “You can clean up if you want. I don’t have any spare clothes for you.”
“I have my backpack.”
“Good.”
She stripped out of her muddy clothes and cleaned her face in silence, running the wet cloth over her head, her hands, and her shoulders. She said not a single word, then folded the washcloth into a square and set it on top of her black backpack.
She looked smaller somehow, more frail than she’d been the last time he saw her. Her hair was trimmed into a short buzz cut that did nothing but enhance the beauty of her stunning eyes and high cheekbones.
Carwyn felt his anger ebb as the fire inside her calmed and the room smelled of moss and green life again. “Are you armed?” he asked. “I don’t want a gun under your pillow tonight.”
“It’s in my backpack.” She looked around the dimly lit cavern. “You’ll feel something before me down here.”
“Yes.” He took off his shirt and took a second towel from a pile sitting on a stone. He dunked it in rainwater and wiped the mud from his face and hands. “I know you don’t like sleeping underground, but I’m sick of the damn ocean.”
“I know the feelin’.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
A little more of Carwyn’s anger ebbed as she released her breath. His amnis didn’t care about righteous anger. Everything in him ached to reach out for her, join her, embrace her.
The combination of having her within reach and the tumultuous events of the night combined, slamming into him with the force of a freight train, and he leaned against the stone wall of the cave.
His shoulders slumped with exhaustion. “I’m tired, Brigid.”
“Then come here.” Her voice was soft.
Carwyn turned and saw her with her arms out, her beautiful eyes soft for him and her damp skin shining in the low lamplight. She was wearing nothing but a cropped tank top and a pair of practical black boxer shorts. Her pale skin was milk white on the dark furs he’d brought to the cave.
“My fine man,” she whispered. “Come here.”
Her softness broke him.
Carwyn stripped off his shirt and crawled into bed beside her, wrapping his arms around her and laying his head on her belly. His amnis settled against hers, and he felt Brigid heat her skin to warm the chill in his.
“Why’d you do it?” He kept his voice low. “Don’t you know it wouldbreakme if anyone laid a hand on you?”
“And I’d burn the world to keep you safe,” Brigid whispered. “I’d burn…everything. Everyone. I was trying to do the least harm, and I hurt you instead.”
He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. “Charred whiskey barrels.”
She frowned. “What?”
“Your eyes. The first time I saw them after you turned, I thought about charred whiskey barrels. That beautiful brown with grey along the edges.” He turned his head and laid his cheek on her belly.
He could hear a smile in her voice. “Did you?”