Prim hadn’t realized just how much hair Con had.

After he bathed and left it unbound, the mop of thick hair reached a quarter of the way down his back. A haphazard curl pattern made it shorter and bushier as it dried, culminating in the wild, frizzy locks falling halfway across his broad shoulders.

No wonder he was so adept at braiding and coiling long hair until it was sufficiently hidden and contained. Her own hair was still tightly secured from when he had fixed it days ago, despite the dragon ride and sleeping in it. But he left his down today, and she liked the way the sun hit it as they walked, highlighting the dark strands into nearly glowing. Her fingers twitched when she looked too long, begging to grab fistfuls.

In the morning hours, Prim had ripped her eyes from admiring his hair to think about what she’d heard last night.

She didn’t understand why those men would be after them, but she’d decided it didn’t matter. It didn’t affect her mission to stay with Con and find the true threat to the future of Wassalia. Who was not the man they’d mentioned.

Con had said he didn’t know who had ordered the kidnapping, so Lord Sol Somanti couldn’t be the mastermind behind it. Still, she wanted to learn more about him, whoever he was. She knew all the great houses; there was no Lord Somanti. Perhaps he was a foreign lord or had given them a false name.

Con was clearly familiar with the man--he had referred to him by first name, not the formal title the fae had used. But she wasn’t going to ask him about it today. Not when he was starting to get over whatever had him purposefully distancing himself yesterday.

Throughout the day, Con went back to the way he had been. He’d offered her his arm as they crossed streams and rocky paths. He’d let her drink from the waterskin first. He’d commented on the land around them, sharing a piece of his home with her. He’d explained the ground itself was more comfortable than a twig bed--he hadn’t just neglected to make her one out of spite like she’d thought.

With each passing hour, with each casual touch, with each shared fact, Prim watched the shadow that had fallen over him after killing the fae recede. As it did, she found herself gazing at him more, enjoying the man it revealed beneath.

And when he held her chin between his thumb and the crook of his finger, smearing that glowing petal mush on her face, leaning in close and focusing on her intently as he did so, she’d had to press her lips together to keep from kissing him.

Con didn’t build a fire. She knew it was because of what had happened last night, and Prim didn’t push for one. Instead, she layered her own Hogard clothes on top of her traveling clothes, then Con’s leathers--after he insisted he didn’t need them--and finally the dress he’d picked out for her. She left the blanket in the bag so he would have something to cover those thin linen traveling clothes he wore.

The cold still seeped into her bones, waking her up in the middle of the night.

She looked down to see Con had placed the blanket on her after she’d drifted off.

He was sitting against a nearby tree. The luminescent swirls had faded away—he’d told her it only lasted an hour once plucked from the plant—but his eyes glowed just as bright in the moonlight, revealing he was awake and watching.

“Take it back,” she said, stirring.

“You were cold. You’re still cold, even with the blanket.”

“Con.” She began to sit up, but a gentle, phantom hand on her shoulder guided her back down.

“Sleep, Princess. I’m fine.” He didn’t move.

“Lay with me.” The words were out before she could stop herself. He’d slept with Adrina. There was no reason for him to refuse her, not when they could share the blanket and their body heat and be much more comfortable for it.

“Bear…” he sighed. He’d never said her name like that before--well, he’d never actually said her name at all. But he’d never said her nickname like that before. It wasn’t in reprimand or warning, but regret. He regretted having to refuse her.

But he didn’t have to refuse her.

“Please. You said it yourself, I’m still cold. I am. And you must be, too. I can’t sleep like this. Lay with me, Con.”

He stared at her for several long moments as some internal debate raged, no doubt. Then he rose and took the few steps to her, the soft ground thudding under his boots.

Prim raised the blanket in invitation. Con accepted.

He laid down on his back next to her, and she let the blanket fall over them both before sidling closer. A gasp threatened to escape as she felt how cold he was, but she managed to reign it in. He must have sensed it anyway, as he immediately moved to get back up.

Prim reached a hand out, stopping him. “You are making me colder now, but I’ll warm you up. Then we’ll warm each other up.”

He settled back in reluctantly. “I know how body heat works.”

Con’s body was not only cold, it was stiff. If they’d had the sense to pack some alcohol in their bag, she’d offer him some. As it was, she could only offer her attempt at humor to loosen him up. “Then you must know it works better when naked.”

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He didn’t laugh, but she hadn’t expected him to. “Sleep.”

Prim curled into him, wrapping a leg and an arm over top of him, her front pressed against his side. She tucked her shoulder under his arm, laying her head on his chest. “Is this okay?”

Con didn’t answer right away. But then that arm she was tucked under wrapped around her. “Sleep, Bear.”

She did.

They traveled leisurely for three more days, Con fully back to himself. He did all those subtle, sweet things he did, including covering her with his magic when storms plagued them--which they frequently did--keeping them both dry.

Each night, they slept curled up together. Prim had to ask Con to join her the first night. And the second. But the third night, after they’d eaten and drank and talked, Prim laid down to go to sleep and Con had automatically curled up behind her, wrapping an arm over her as his body perfectly fit around hers. Just like it had when they’d been in that wonderfully broken saddle: back to chest, thigh to thigh, butt to dick. Only this time, there were layers upon layers of fabric separating them. She could barely sleep for thinking about how he would feel if they were separated by nothing at all.

The next night, Prim didn’t layer her clothes for bed. She wore only her traveling pants and shirt. And when Con laid down next to her--again without her having to ask--she snuggled into him, letting their bodies connect in a far more intimate way than they had the previous few nights. She felt his dick twitch and his hips scoot back on the dirt, signaling he noticed the difference and he was trying to control himself.

But she didn’t want him to.

Prim turned around to face Con. She allowed an inch or two to separate their bodies as they laid on their sides and placed her top hand on his chest as she reached the other around his neck. Con’s top arm came down to grip a hand on her hip, his bottom arm lying under her head. It was dark, clouds obscuring most of the night sky, but she could still make out his features. Just barely.

“Yes, Princess?” His voice was so gravelly and sexy, Prim didn’t want to speak. She wanted that voice to continue echoing around her mind.

Not to mention what she had in mind didn’t require words.

She repositioned her hand around his neck, spearing it into his hair that he’d never bothered to tie back. She grabbed that fistful she’d been fantasizing about and wrapped it around her hand until she got to his scalp, then she pulled him to her, stretching her neck to meet him.

Prim’s bottom lip brushed across Con’s just before he jerked back.

“What are you doing?” he hissed.

She didn’t let his tone unnerve her. He wanted her, too. She knew it. But maybe she shouldn’t have caught him off guard like that. “Can I kiss you?”

He studied her for a moment, despite the fact that he wouldn’t be able to read her expression in the dark. “What is it you want?”

She smirked, tugging playfully on that handful of hair she still fisted. “A kiss to start with. Then we can move on from there.”

He shook his head as his grip on her hip tightened. “What is it you hope to accomplish by doing this?”

Prim laughed, soft and breathy. “An orgasm would be nice if you can manage it.”

That hand on her hip tightened again, and Prim imagined what it would feel like for him to grip her like that while thrusting into her.

“Just tell me what you want.” Con’s voice was not amused. “If this is about escaping, I can’t help you. But if there’s something else you’re after, if it’s something within my power, I’ll do it for you.”

Prim furrowed her brows. “What are you talking about?”

“Why are you trying to seduce me?”

Prim blinked. “Con.” She untangled her hand from his hair so she could cup both hands on his cheeks. “I like you. You make me feel…I just…I like the way you make me feel.” She didn’t know what to say. She’d never had to explain herself like this before. If she was interested in someone, she let them know, and they accepted. Nobody had ever wanted her to explain why. Nobody had ever said no.

Con’s eyes narrowed. “You have no ulterior motive?”

“No,” she breathed, regretting that stupid ploy to get information she attempted before she got to know him. She released his face only to wrap her arms around his neck again.

“What about Maria?”

Shit. What could she say? “You read the letter. That relationship ended months ago.”

“But you still love her.”

It was sweet, really, that he was concerned about that. But unnecessary. “I don’t."

Con’s swallow was audible. He was grasping for a reason to refuse her. “What about your betrothed?”

Prim breathed a laugh. “I’ve never even met the man.”

Con scoffed. “You’re marrying someone you’ve never met?”

“You tell me,” she shot back, and that hand on her hip unlatched.

That was why he was refusing. She was his captive. Prim never felt like it. She wasn’t, really. She was in complete control. But he didn’t know that.

“What about the night I found you in Hogard?” he asked quietly.

Prim didn’t understand. “What about it?” She had been attempting to deliver the letter. “I’m not in love with Maria,” she asserted.

“That’s not what I meant.” Con sounded conflicted.

Prim was going to help him resolve his hesitance. She began to slide her hands down his chest as she purred, “Let me convince you that I want you.”

He grasped her arms, pushing them away from him. When he let go, not a single point on their bodies were connected. Prim was painfully aware of the distance between them.

“This cannot happen.” No more grasping for excuses. Just flat out rejection. “Put your other clothes on and I’ll still sleep with you. For warmth. If you still want me to.”

Prim had enough self respect not to beg. She layered on the extra clothes and the two companions slept under the blanket together, but their bodies remained separated as if by a physical divide.

At one point in the night, Prim kicked her leg out and met a soft, invisible barrier.

Con had put up a divide.