Emily was on the verge of slipping into a fitful, exhausted doze when Merwyn, apparently tiring of his argument with the cat, reached across the carriage and tapped her lightly on the nose.
"None of that, Wifey," he chided, his pink eyes serious. "You can't fall asleep yet. You're still too cold. Your body needs to warm up first." He reached over and placed his hand on her forehead, his touch impossibly warm, a gentle, soothing heat that seemed to seep into her very bones. "You'll catch a chill. And I can't have my favorite human getting sick. It's so very...unattractive."
His words were typically selfish and insensitive, but the action behind them was... unexpectedly kind. The warmth spread from his touch, a pleasant, drowsy feeling that chased away the last of the deep-seated chill.
Adrien watched the exchange with a complex, unreadable expression. He said nothing, but his hand tightened slightly on hers, a silent, possessive gesture.
