Deep within the forest, Rory discovered a strange fruit tree, its clusters of crimson berries glistening like oversized cherries. Their skins were taut and glossy, as though lacquered with morning dew.
She stepped forward to pick them.
The moment her fingertips brushed the vivid fruit, a cool presence pressed close behind her.
Xarion's chest settled against her back.
The chill of his body seeped through the thin fabric of her clothes, like touching polished jade on a summer day. A faint tremor ran along her spine.
His arm slid past her side, his sleeve grazing her bare wrist, carrying with it a faint scent of pine and frost.
"Female Master, I'll help you."
His voice brushed the shell of her ear, warm breath at odds with the cool embrace surrounding her.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Ever since they left the cabin this morning, Xarion had been seeking opportunities to stick close to her—touching her hand, holding her waist, brushing against her whenever possible.
