Destined for Disaster ✔️

Chapter 18

When Ryleigh woke up, she was in that blissful state of half-consciousness where time and place were abstract concepts with no application. She turned on her side, hugging her pillow, and it took about a minute for her to realise she hadn't been able to sleep on her side before, due to the chains holding her back. That realisation was immediately followed by the realisation she wasn't wearing her cuffs. After that, the realisations kept coming.

She didn't know where she was and she didn't want to open her eyes just yet, but she was bathing in Austin's smell. The sheets smelled like him, the covers smelled like him, the pillow smelled like him. For a moment she subconsciously pulled the covers tighter around her, a sleepy smile playing on her lips. Then it hit her she was probably in Austin's bed and her eyes fluttered open, revealing a bedroom.

Her eyes swept the room, which lacked most forms of decoration. All that there was, at least what she could see in her current position, was a mahogany desk littered with books. She rolled on her back and discovered a fireplace with two easy chairs in front of it, one of which currently housed her mate. He was flipping through a book lying on his lap, but glanced up at the sound of her movements. She groaned and rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

"You just love to watch me sleep, don't you?"

From the corner of her eyes she saw him smirk. Images of him shirtless flashed through her mind again and she turned her face away so he wouldn't see her cheeks turn a shade darker.

"How are you?" he asked, which brought her attention to the fact that she should be dying of pain – which she wasn't. That is, yes, she was in pain, and now that her focus was returned to it, the pain was annoying, but it was manageable. Perhaps it was his proximity, or the fact that she'd been revelling in his smell for hours, but she felt better than she should have.

She draped her underarm across her face and yawned. "This your room?" She vaguely gestured around her without removing her arm from her eyes and without answering his question.

"Yes."

"What am I doing in your room?" She dropped her arm now and gave him a look that oscillated between genuine curiosity and a sort of unspoken challenge.

"Well, you've proved you can't be trusted in the infirmary. Ridge is too chaotic to stay wary of you. He said you probably nicked his keys from his pocket while he helped you go to the bathroom. Should have guessed you were a pickpocket on top of everything else."

"What can I say, I'm a woman of many accomplishments." She moved into a seated position with the speed and grace of a very old woman, and pressed her hands against her eyes as vertigo hit her.

"You alright?" he asked. She waved his concern away with one hand, keeping the other stretched out over her eyes.

"Just a second." She peeked through her fingers to see if the room had stopped moving yet. Satisfied that it had, she removed her hand and blinked slowly. "You can return me to the infirmary. I'm sure Ridge will safeguard the keys better from now on."

"Ridge is a very clever man, but he doesn't have the presence of mind to keep up with your guile, and I don't trust you to stop trying to escape."

"My guile, huh? You make me out to be some kind of criminal mastermind. I like it." She shivered and glanced at the hearth, which was burning brightly. She rubbed her hands up and down her bare arms, but the trembling wouldn't cease.

"You're cold?" he asked, surprise filling his voice. "It's very warm in here." He put his book aside and moved over to the bed, sitting down on the edge and placing his warm palm against her forehead. She sighed at this touch but managed to mask her feelings under a thick layer of scepticism.