Chapter 262: Wet Clothes
*****
Cora and Leonardo had taken shelter in a small inn at the outskirts of the capital. To their disappointment, there was only one room left. The rain hadn’t let up since the moment it began, and with every tavern and lodging filled to the brim, they didn’t have much of a choice with the only available room left.
Drench and cold to the bone, they exchanged a reluctant glance before agreeing to take it. As the innkeeper led them upstairs, Cora muttered under her breath, irritation dripping from every word.
"This is just pure torture. My chronicle almost got soaked because of you."
Leonardo, still shivering, shot her a tired look. "I saved it, didn’t I? I even put it in a bag for you. Can you stop blaming me? It’s not like I commanded the rain to fall on us."
When they reached the room, Cora and Leonardo offered their thanks before stepping inside.
The room was modest but comfortable enough for two. A single bed was tucked beside the window, and a small hearth crackled with fire in the corner. The scent of damp wood and faint herbs lingered in the air, while a threadbare rug stretched across the floor to keep the chill away.
Cora didn’t hesitate to kneel before the burning wood, stretching her palm towards the flame for warmth.
All this was happening because Donovan had predicted it. He had told just the two of them that the king would be waiting at the port. How he knew about that, neither of them could tell– but after that, he gave them instructions and little of everything else.
She had no power to question the Alpha, and Leonardo would do whatever his brother told him to without hesitation. By tomorrow, they needed to begin searching for the three witches’ hideout, and report back to him as soon as possible.
Leonardo, already exhausted, let himself collapse face-first onto the bed, not caring that his clothes were still dripping wet. The mattress gave a miserable squelch beneath him, but he was too tired to care– until Cora spoke up.
"Sit up," she said calmly. "And take off your clothes while you’re at it."
He didn’t react right away. The words reached him, but they bounced around in the haze of his exhaustion without meaning. Only when her shadow suddenly fell across him did his brain catch up.
"Leonardo, I said take off your clothes."
His eyes flew open. "Huh?"
He sat up immediately, blinking at her in obvious disbelief. "Wait– what do you mean take off my clothes? I’m completely fine leaving them on. Really."
Cora crossed her arms, unimpressed.
"You’re soaked," she said evenly. "If you keep them on, you might catch a serious cold before morning. And we can’t dry anything if you stay in it."
"What– so you’re asking me to strip naked then?"
"Yes," she didn’t even blink. She said it so casually it was almost alarming– like she wasn’t asking him, a GROWN MAN, to strip naked in front of her.
"If you’re feeling shy I can always help you take them off."
"No, thank you! Since when?"
Leonardo shot to his feet the instant she moved toward him, his hands raised defensively. For the first time, Cora noticed how genuinely flustered he looked;
Wide eyes, tense, his usual composure unraveling all at once. And all because she asked him to take off a few wet clothes?
"Listen, if you’re suggesting we warm up by disrobing and lying together on the same bed then–"
"Yes, that’s what I’m saying," she replied again.
Leonardo froze. His brain refused to process the word fast enough. Before he could even stammer a reply, Cora was already shrugging off her soaked cloak and shirt, leaving only a thin, white garment that clung to her skin and ended just above her thighs. The fabric stuck to her in places the light dared to touch, tracing her form in soft outline rather than revealing it.
It was the kind of sight no man’s nerves could survive unscathed.
She assumed if she set the example first, he’d be less nervous, but how wrong she turned out to be in the end.
Leonardo made a sound that could only be described as a traumatized shriek. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING???"
Cora turned toward him, completely unbothered. Her expression was sharp and serious despite how dangerously distracting she looked in the firelight. There was no hint of playfulness or seduction behind her actions, just steady practicality of someone who’d spent too long surviving without the luxury of modesty.
He, however, couldn’t look past the sight. She was completely unaware of the havoc she was wrecking on his composure, and his mind was filled with nothing logically appropriate, which was unlike him.
Don’t look. Don’t you dare look.
"I’m trying not to freeze to death, and you should too," she replied simply, glancing at the hearth where the fire crackled weakly. "The fire can die out anytime. Thankfully werewolves are known for their body heat. If we stay together, we can keep warm before dawn."
Was she being serious?
Leonardo wondered if she actually heard the words coming out of her mouth– or if she was just blissfully unaware of how insane they sounded.
His gaze flicked down, entirely by accident, only to catch the curve on her breast before pure panic set in. He snapped his head away, throwing his hands over his face like a man shielding himself from blasphemy.
"I’m not doing any of that!" He sputtered, his voice cracking into a high, horrified note. "You can’t make me!"
"Listen!" Cora snapped, yanking him by the collar with a grip that belied her slender frame. "The Alpha expects us to find the witches’ hideout, and we can’t do that if you’re feverish and useless. There isn’t enough blanket or a fire kit. Imagine if you fall sick from all of this. Now stop acting like a child and do as I say, or else–"
Her glare sliced through him, and Leonardo froze, every ounce of defiance draining from his face. It was almost impressive how quickly his usual demeanor crumbled under her command.
His face was flushed red as he stammered. "I...I think I’ll take my chances with the cold."
"What?" Cora’s voice sharpened.
"I...uh...no, wait– I mean– I mean– yes, ma’am... I’ll... take them off." He forced the word out like a surrender and then, like a puppet whose strings had been cut off, his shoulders slackened.
The last thing Cora saw was his lips parting in a small exhale before he toppled sideways onto the rug, unconscious.
"Leo?" She murmured, sounding more curious than concerned. She crouched and checked his pulse with practiced ease, then stood and straightened with a soft, exasperated sigh.
"He really is a virgin."
Her hands rested against her hips.
"I didn’t even need the frying pan to knock him out this time."