“Stay here,” he said over his shoulder, and left the tent.
She heard him speaking quietly outside by the fire with Tristan and Caleb, telling them everything that had happened and deciding what to do next. They started arguing again. Yawning, Lily sat down on her sleeping bag and struggled to keep her eyes open while she waited to hear what they were going to do about her little jailbreak. Her body ached from the unaccustomed exercise and from the dozens of little bumps and scrapes she’d incurred. Her nose was stuffed up, probably from the leaf mold, and her head was throbbing. She rubbed her puffy eyes, wishing she could fall asleep and wake up from this nightmare. Finally, Rowan returned with another sleeping bag.
“You’re tired,” he said, like he was reminding her she needed to buy milk at the store. She regarded his sleeping bag meaningfully, arms crossed.
“I thought this was my tent.”
“Your single-tent privileges have been revoked,” he said, looking down at his own hands as he unrolled his bag. For a second, it looked like he was smiling to himself, but when he looked up at her, his face was stern. “Lie down.”
Rowan set his sleeping bag down against the foot of hers, in a T formation. She was just about to argue with him when a giant, jaw-cracking yawn overtook her. The truth was, Lily felt so exhausted that she didn’t really care where he slept. She stretched out on top of her bag as he climbed into the bag at her feet. He reached out for her, pushing his hand under the hem of her jeans and clasping on to her newly healed ankle. She tried to jerk her foot away, but he only held on tighter.
“In case you try to wander off again,” he told her. His expression made it clear that there was no point protesting—he wasn’t going to let go. Lily settled back hesitantly while Rowan lowered the lamplight and settled down.
His hand was refreshingly cool on her hot skin—almost as if he were pulling some of the heat and congestion out of her through the palm of his hand. Lily felt her nose unstuff, the ache behind her eyes lessen, and her fever begin to drop.
She knew she should probably be terrified of someone who’d threatened to kill her only moments ago, but she wasn’t. The gentle pressure of Rowan’s fingers on her calf soothed her. But as her muscles started to slacken, his seemed to get tighter and tighter. Even though Lily was exhausted, his tension was keeping her awake.
“What is it?” she finally asked.
“You’re really dehydrated,” he replied, throwing off his blankets and crossing the dark tent. “Didn’t Tristan tell you about the canteen?”
He brought it over to her without waiting for a response.
“I’m fine,” she said stubbornly.
“You’re not fine. Drink,” Rowan urged, his voice softer than she’d ever heard it. She took a few swallows, realized how thirsty she was, and drained the whole canteen in one long draw that left her gasping for breath at the end.
“Thanks,” she said, handing the canteen back to him. “How did you know I was so thirsty?”
Rowan didn’t answer her right away—he just shook his head and smiled to himself. After a long pause he finally said, “I’ve been taking care of you for so many years now, I know your body better than you do.”
Rowan stowed the canteen and climbed back into his bag. He reached out and grabbed on to her ankle again, but this time she didn’t try to pull it away.
CHAPTER 5
Lily opened her eyes and saw an arm. A big, thick male arm. The skin was smooth and a few shades darker than her nearly translucent shoulder, which was pinned beneath it.