Curse of the Troll by Emma Hamm (novels to read .txt) 📕

gotten Elva to talk about her history. What was it about this man that made her want to open up? He wasn’t safe to be around. He had been cursed, and in her experience, cursed men weren’t that way because they were kind souls.

Of course, this could all be the anxiety talking. She could hardly be around men now without losing her breath. Even Bran, her dearest and oldest friend, made her want to vomit just by touching her.

This cursed dwarf didn’t make her want to puke. In fact, he just made all the thoughts in her mind quiet.

Or most of the time. But not tonight.

She sighed and tucked her nose into the fur. Elva was a warrior. She had built a new life upon strength and capability. She didn’t need someone else to give her a reason for loving the way she was. That was what she’d fought so hard for. This state of mind that allowed her to rely on herself rather than another person.

And yet…she wanted to rely on someone else. She was so damned tired of being alone all the time.

“It’s too cold for you to be out of the covers,” she finally said.

“And I’m not going to take the bed, nor do I see another bed in this room. I’m fine, Elva. I’ve experienced nights colder than this.”

There he went, confusing her again. How many men would argue with her when offered a place in her bed? She didn’t know of any man who would have. This dwarf didn’t make sense, but he certainly made her feel more like herself.

Grumbling, she flipped the furs on the other side of the bed. “Just get under the covers, would you? I’m exhausted, and you’re shaking the whole mattress with your shivering.”

“I’m not shivering,” he replied, laughter dancing in his words.

“Donnacha.”

“Elva,” he replied.

Then he moved. She held her breath as he crawled up the bed and underneath the covers. Would he try to touch her? Would he pull her into his arms? She didn’t know if she could handle that. Not right now when her heart was thundering in her ears and her hands were already shaking.

She gripped the furs as tightly as possible, turning her face toward him and waiting for the moment when he would insist she use her body to pay for her stay here. That she was too pretty for him to resist. That she wouldn’t mind, would she?

He didn’t say any of these things. Instead, Donnacha sighed and stopped moving.

She waited a few more heartbeats before asking, “Warmer?”

“Much.”

Silence fell between them, pressing down on her lungs until she forgot entirely how to breathe. He was here. So close she could touch him, and that was somehow more suffocating than if he had been sitting directly on her chest.

She wanted to run. She wanted to get up and bolt, but that wasn’t normal behavior. The ghost of Fionn loomed over her. It whispered in her ear that she would never be a normal person after him. That she couldn’t think like a normal person because she wasn’t one anymore.

He’d sunk his claws so firmly into her that she’d never be able to look at a man the same again. She’d never be that innocent little thing who was so kind and forgiving. Elva would never be herself again.

Donnacha cursed and threw back the covers. “I’m not doing this.”

“What? I already invited you to stay under the covers, Donnacha. Where are you going?”

“You don’t want to do this,” he growled. “I’m not going to make you uncomfortable just for a little frost. I’ll be fine, faerie. Just—”

She reached out and grabbed his arm. All she could think was that he should stay. She could learn how to be a normal person without having a panic attack.

And then, all she could think was that he wasn’t just a short little creature like most dwarves. He wasn’t covered in fur like a bear pelt. His arm was warm, strong, muscled far more than she would have expected.

He felt like velvet under her hand. Not smooth like Fionn had been, like a sculpture or glass. But textured with hair, scars, and the feeling of another person. He was real.

“Stay,” she repeated. “It’s okay.”

“You’re the one shaking now,” he said, remaining firmly at the edge of the bed. “And I don’t think it’s because of the cold.”

It wasn’t. And she was embarrassed he’d realized his closeness had affected her. “I can’t let it run my life for any longer. The idea of being alone for the rest of my life terrifies me. But I can’t even sit next to someone else, let alone sleep in the same bed.”

“So you want to throw yourself into the most difficult part first? You have to be a little gentler with yourself, Elva.”

“It’s my choice,” she spat the words. “I get to decide how to heal my own wounds and, right now, we’re both cold. This castle is made out of ice. We have to warm up, and we can warm up on other sides of the bed. Without touching each other.”

He sighed. “We were already doing that, and clearly it wasn’t working for you.”

It hadn’t been, but now he knew where her mind was. He understood she was panicking just from him being close to her. Somehow, that made it feel a little bit better. She wasn’t struggling alone anymore.

“Just try again,” she finally said. “It’s warmer with you in the bed anyway.”

Donnacha hesitated for a few more moments before he slid back under the covers. He was careful to remain as far away from her as possible. “Dwarves are like furnaces, so I’ve been told.”

“Oh, really?” She stared up at the ceiling, trying to calm her thundering heart. “Who told you that?”

“An old lover.”

“Any more details than that?” She let out a chuckle. “That could have been anyone.”

He muttered a single word, clearly trying to muffle the sound.

“What was that?” she asked, quite certain she’d heard the right thing and holding