The light drape of Lenore's arm against her overheated flesh leaves something alive and electric in its wake, has Gideon's heart leaping into her throat. Her nipples stiffen against the material of her bandeau, lust arrows hard straight to her groin…but she forces herself to take in a deep breath, then another. One, two.

Get it together Nav, for fuck's sake, are the words that echo around her head, and once again she tries forcing herself to think of the most unappealing sights imaginable. The ghastly old crones back in Drearburh, stalking the cold stone hallways like revenants, eyes rheumy and filled with hate. King Priamhark's wrinkly old ass. Okay, fucking gross, perhaps one step too far.

"Nah, I'm okay. I'm alright. You need me here, right? I just...need a minute," her voice is a heated whisper in the dark, painfully aware of the maid inn her bed beside the fire, "I've just...I’m usually alone. When I sleep. I’ve never slept this close to another person before."

Never mind one so breathtakingly attractive.