I didn’t sleep that night. Tossing and turning was the best I got as my brain replayed sitting with Brennan again and again. I felt too hot with the blanket on, and pushed it off, letting the chilly air cool me off. The whole night I was uncomfortable, a needy dampness between my legs, and I had wished Brennan would show up. He hadn’t, and I had gotten out of bed that morning, still uncomfortable, my joints and bones aching worse than ever, hoping he had been just as uncomfortable and unable to sleep as I had been.
“It will be another half hour before we reach Pason’s land,” Brennan was saying, looking far too awake for someone who had been tortured all night long. I felt myself glaring at him as he talked, even as a yawn tore through me. “You think you’ll be able to ride quickly through
