Malin froze in place.
The fabric of the second tent slipped from his fingers and sagged to the ground, forgotten. His thoughts halted as Rhaegal's voice echoed in his head.
"You'll be staying in mine."
He turned to look at the vampire lord, slow and wide-eyed. "I… I thought I'd be sharing a tent with Eugene," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. But it came out soft. Too soft. Like a question he was afraid to know the answer to.
Rhaegal didn't blink. "You won't," he said plainly. His tone was calm, but final.
Malin's chest tightened. There was no room for argument in that voice.
What Rhaegal didn't say was louder than what he did. He didn't trust other vampires around Malin—and maybe, just maybe, he didn't like the idea of Malin being too close to anyone else.
Just then, Eugene came walking up the trail with a bedroll over his shoulder and his arms full of gear. He stopped in his tracks when he saw only one tent standing.
He raised a brow. "Where's the second—?"
