Warmth surrounded River on all sides. A thick comforter was drawn up to her neck, and she was cozy. The air was heavy with the scent of almond and cedar, tinged with a hint of fresh air, like the calm before a storm.
Something deep and primal within her calmed at the scent, but she wasn’t prepared to unpack what that meant. For one thing, this didn’t seem like the right moment. For another, she didn’t know where she was. She remembered running from the hospital, the storm pouring out of her, but after that…
Oh, gods. She covered her face with her hands and moaned. She’d gone to Nikhail for help. In the moment, it had seemed like the right thing to do, but now she was second-guessing herself. What kind of impression had she left? What did he think of her?
She didn’t remember anything that was said—it was all a blur of rain and wind and danger. But she remembered the way he’d held her close, the way she’d gripped his chest, as if he were the only thing keeping her upright…
Heat burned her cheeks, and she slowly lowered her hands from her eyes. A pillow slid off the bed, hitting the floor as she took in her surroundings.
Well, one thing was certain: this wasn’t her place.
For one thing, her tiny studio apartment, conveniently located near the hospital, didn’t have a king-sized bed. For another, the blazing fire in the brick hearth was unfamiliar. It wasn’t unwelcome—the crackling logs and warmth were a pleasant change from the dampness that had settled in her bones last night—but it was different.
Masculine touches were everywhere she looked. Sturdy walnut furniture was paired with heavy blackout curtains. The fluffy comforter was a forest green. A charcoal rug covered the dark hardwood floor.
River pushed herself up, noting the mountain of pillows at her back, before glancing down and confirming she was still in her pink scrubs. They had dried into a wrinkly mess, but it was nothing a wash cycle couldn’t fix. Her ponytail had come loose overnight, and she tugged off the elastic.
Her gaze rose to the closet. The door was open, revealing suits and dress shirts hanging in neat rows. Polished shoes were lined up beneath them, and a display of meticulously organized ties was spread along the back wall.
If this were a guest room, she’d expect the closet to be empty or filled with knick-knacks.
Which meant this was…
Heavy footsteps shuffled in the hallway outside, and River shifted her attention from the closet to the door. Drawing the blanket up under her armpits, she secured it with her arms as a knock came from the door.
“River?” Nikhail’s voice was low on the other side of the door. “I heard a noise. Are you awake?”
Was she awake? Yes. Was she ready to talk to him? No.
The longer River looked around the space, the more clues she found that led her to believe that this wasn’t just some guest room.
A framed picture on the mantle showed Nikhail surrounded by three other women. His family, by the looks of them. An ornate pair of golden cufflinks sat next to the clock on the dresser. The navy blue slippers on the carpet near the foot of the bed were worn.
No, she was certain this wasn’t just some guest room. This was Nikhail’s room, and she was inhisbed.
Of all the places River had expected to find herself this morning, this wasn’t one of them. She wasn’t entirely sure how she got here, but judging by the exhaustion in her bones and her simmering magic, she’d depleted herself and passed out.
After the Incident, River had slept for a week. Ryker told her several doctors had come to check on her, and they’d all said the same thing: She was fine. It was just magical depletion, and she’d wake up when her body was ready.
River twisted the bedsheet in her fingers, staring at the shadows under the door. Nikhail was out there, waiting for her.
Why didn’t he just leave her on the couch? That would’ve been fine. But this…
She didn’t know what to do with this. Why did he put her in his bed? What did it mean?
Maybe he was just being kind because she was Ryker’s sister. Maybe he meant nothing by it, and she was just having anxious, unfounded thoughts. That wouldn’t be out of the ordinary.
A byproduct of often being alone meant that River wasprone to overthinking things. Catastrophizing was basically a hobby of hers at this point.
Sometimes, her anxiety got the better of her and served up a slew of horrible circumstances, each worse than the last.
Whether or not she was overthinking things, River was certain about one thing. If Ryker ever found out that she’d spent the night in his best friend’s bed, he’d have a conniption. It wouldn’t matter that Nikhail hadn’t been in bed with her. Luckily for River—and Nikhail’s face—Ryker wasn’t here. He was in Golden City with his wife.
In the end, she realized she couldn’t keep Nikhail waiting. She’d have to face him at some point, especially since this was his room. He’d already done so much for her, and she didn’t want to put him out any longer.
Crossing her legs and sitting up straighter, she ran her fingers through her hair. It was tangled and in desperate need of a brushing. She gave up after a few moments, throwing it up in a messy bun.
“I’m awake,” she called out.