Nina walked behind the Alpha as they returned to the chambers after dinner, her eyes on his back.

She watched his legs as he moved. His strides were long but careful, and he barely made a sound walking. Now that she thought about it, he barely made a sound doing anything. He always—

"Ouch."

Rodrigo had stopped, and she landed against his back.

She took a step back, rubbing at her forehead, and only then realized they were already at his door.

He looked at her once and went inside. Nina followed, closing the door quietly behind her.

Her eyes went to the bed and stayed there a moment before they moved, slowly, to the couch.

Now why had she mentioned the couch.

She bit her lower lip as she stared at it. She didn’t want to sleep on the couch.

Rodrigo crossed to the bed and lay down, pulling the quilt over himself, his hand resting over his forehead.

Nina stood by the couch a moment longer than she needed to, then lay down on it, curling her legs up beneath her. It was cold, and there was only one duvet. Her fingers wrapped around her bare legs and rubbed against them, but it didn’t help much.

Rodrigo’s eyes stayed shut for a long moment, then fluttered open in the dark room.

He blinked once, and his gaze turned to the couch.

Her eyes were closed, her hair spilling across her cheek to the floor. Her chest rose and fell quietly, her mouth pressed in a tight line.

Something pulled at the side of his mouth.

Then she shivered, her arms tightening around her legs, and his brows drew together as he watched her.

He sat up.

He crossed the room quietly and lowered himself beside the couch, his face inches from hers. Up close he could see the freckles scattered across her nose — he’d noticed them earlier that day, but they were clearer now, a faint constellation of them.

His hand lifted to her face and brushed the hair away from her cheek.

The moment his fingers grazed her skin, she turned, catching his hand and pulling it against her face.

Rodrigo went still.

Her cheek was cold. Her hand was colder.

"Cold," she mumbled, her face pressing into his palm.

His other hand gripped the edge of the couch, knuckles draining white as he held himself there, his palm against her face and her fingers wrapped around his wrist. He didn’t move. He stayed like that until her breathing slowed and her grip on him eased.

Then he slid his hand free, slid the other beneath her knees, and lifted her off the couch.

Her brows creased but she didn’t wake.

This woman had no survival skills.

He carried her across the room and lowered her onto the bed, but the moment he started to pull away her hand caught the front of his shirt.

Rodrigo froze.

Her fingers had closed in the fabric without her waking, and the pull was small — barely anything — but he felt it through his whole chest. He could have moved her hand. It would have taken nothing.

He didn’t.

He stayed kneeling beside the bed with her fist in his shirt and her face turned toward him in sleep, and for a long moment he didn’t move at all. Then, slowly, he lowered until his forearm rested on the mattress beside her head, her hand still at his chest.

His eyes went to her mouth.

They stayed there.

She breathed out softly and her lips parted, and Rodrigo’s jaw tightened. He reached up, careful, and worked her fingers loose from his shirt one at a time until her hand fell soft against the sheet.

He pulled the quilt over her.

Then he stood, walked around to the other side of the bed, and lay down with his back to her.

He shut his eyes, but it took him a long time to find sleep.

When Nina woke, the room was full of light.

She lay still for a moment, blinking at the ceiling. Then she looked down.

She was in the bed.

Her head turned, and she froze.

She was sleeping right next to the Alpha.

Her hand went to her mouth.

He was still asleep, his face turned toward her, his hair fallen across his cheek. The hard line of his jaw had eased in a way she’d never seen on him awake.

Her hand dropped from her mouth.

Did he carry her here?

She propped herself up on her elbow and looked at him properly.

He was very, very handsome...

She leaned in a little. His lashes were dark against his cheek, longer than she’d expected for a man, and his chest rose and fell slow and even. She was close enough now to see the small scar at the edge of his jaw, and she wondered, briefly, where it had come from.

A strand of his hair fell across his face. She frowned, lifted her hand, and reached to brush it away.

His eyes opened.

Nina froze, his hair caught between her fingers, her face inches from his.

Rodrigo looked at her, his eyes locked on hers, unblinking. Then they shifted, slightly, to his hair between her fingers.

"What are you doing."

Nina’s eyes went wide. She let go of his hair and jumped off the bed so fast she nearly took the quilt with her.

"Nothing," she said, clearing her throat. "There was — there was something on your face."

Her heart slammed against her ribs as she watched him sit up, brushing his fingers through his hair to push it back from his face.

"Good morning," she said, and turned toward the bathroom, shutting the door before he could reply.

She stood with her back against it, her chest beating wildly, and then slowly slid down to the ground, pressing both hands flat against her cheeks.

What are you doing.

You’re supposed to be in control, Annalise.

She dragged a breath as she walked to the sink and stared at her reflection in the water, her fingers gripping the edge of it.

You’re his worst enemy, Annalise.

You cannot forget that.