Wolfsbane

Chapter Four

West had barely finished closing the door upstairs when he dumped her from his person. She fixed him a glare but her efforts were wasted as he moved about the room, scanning each surface of furniture like he was a Draugur searching for the last morsel of blood on the Northern continent.

A musty smell filled her nose as if it had laid empty for some time. A fine sheen of dust coated a small armoire and adjacent chair, floating like plumes of smoke in the air when West shucked his weapons atop them.

Her nose scrunched as she fought the urge to sneeze.

She took in the bathing quarter, no more than a wooden tub tucked into the far corner. No regard for modesty seemed present.

The walls were barren, no window, and only a single oil light to brighten the space. Her eyes settled on the bed. Sheets the colour of warm sand lined the bed along with two worn pillows. Sera bristled, an involuntary shiver tracking down the length of her spine.

"I'm not sleeping with you."

West's face remained expressionless, though an absence of emotions did nothing to soften the severe look that the sharp planes of his features created. She swallowed.

He peeled his coat from his body, resting it with little care over the back of the armchair. It was only then that his brows pulled together in scathing disgust. "I have no intention of sleeping with you, only next to you."

Sera felt her face heat. He'd manage to make a few gruff words into a biting insult with such ease. Her chin jutted out and if she hadn't known better, she would have sworn she saw a flicker of amusement in his eyes, the ghost of a smile hovering over his lips. It was anything but pleasant.

West fixed her a look. "Unless you have a problem keeping your hands to yourself?"

She didn't say anything.

The King stopped in the very centre of the room and scanned her from knotted hair to dirty toes.

"Strip."

She spluttered. "What?"

His eyes briefly roamed down, looking at his own body as if to assess his far cleanlier state. "You're filthy," he stated flatly, "and you stink. You need to bathe."

A flush crept up her neck and stained her cheeks. "You're sorely mistaken if you believe for one moment I am getting in that tub with you in the room."

West stilled. "I don't believe I gave you a choice."

At that moment she felt a tremor rake down her spine. He stared at her, the only movement in the room, the steady rise and fall of his shoulders as he drew breath.

A warm glow rested in the very centre of his dark eyes, a reflection of the candlelight's flame, but Sera could have sworn it was a glimpse into the King's soul. A burning ember; fierce and ruthless.

West looked away, sitting down and beginning the task of unlacing his dark boots. A seemingly innocuous task and yet his towering frame and muscular stature had it striking fear into the air, crackling in the pits of her lungs as she inhaled.

Sera's hand wandered to her face, her finger pressed down against her dry bottom lip. She grimaced. He hadn't been lying when he told her she was filthy.