“No. Yes. Oh, I don’t know.” She straightened and looked at him. Water trickled down the hard planes of his face and spiked his black eyelashes. “How could you do that to him? He’s your second-in-command. You’ve known each other for . . . for far longer than I can comprehend. If you could do that to him, who else could you do it to?”
“Right now, I could do it to anyone but you.” He eased her off his lap, stood and lathered. He washed his groin and genitals. He handled his erect penis with brisk practicality, but she still had to glance away from how mouthwatering he looked. She finished rinsing her hair as he sluiced off. He turned off the shower.
She wrapped her hair in a towel and dried off with another, while Dragos rubbed a towel over his head and body. The domesticity of the scene was both bizarre and seductive. She fought against giving in to a sense of belonging. It was an illusion. She slipped on the black Dolce & Gabbana robe and saw his eyes light with approval.
“Why anybody but me?” she asked. “Why am I the only one who’s safe?”
Why can I trust you? she wanted to ask. But the strain had eased from his features and she didn’t want to disturb the peace that had crept in to take its place. She took the towel from her hair and started working a brush through the wet length.
He stood behind her, a towel slung around his hips, and took the brush from her. He smoothed out her hair as she watched him in the mirror. The wet braid at his wrist was the same darkened shade of honey.
After several moments of looking thoughtful, he said, “You don’t know much about living in Wyr society, do you?”
She shook her head.
“I forget how secluded you’ve been.” He kissed the nape of her neck. “It will all come clear in time. I promise. Just believe me when I say that not only will I never hurt you, I will protect you from anyone else who would hurt you.”
She did believe him. It fit with how he responded to her when she worked to calm him, with everything that he had said to her and with all his actions. Things settled back in their rightful places. “All right,” she said. “But how do we make sure that you don’t hurt the others then? They’re so loyal to you, Dragos.”
“I know they are. They’re good men. You’ll have to take my word that they understand what happened earlier, maybe even better than I do. We were all a bit too careless today. It won’t happen again.”
“Can you be a bit more enigmatic?” she asked. Irritation brought out the sarcasm in her like nothing else. “A few of those sentences made sense, you know. What won’t happen again?”
He smiled. “Are you hungry? Let’s have supper. It should be set up in the dining room by now.”
Once he mentioned eating, she noticed how famished she was. All of a sudden she felt hollow and shaky. “I’m starving. All I had for lunch was a salad.”
He frowned as he strode into the dressing room. “You should eat more than that. It must take a lot of lettuce and carrots to keep up any kind of normal body weight.”
“Very funny.”
He cocked his head at her. “I wasn’t aware I was making a joke.”
She followed him and picked out a sleeveless red tank top and a matching white skirt splashed with large red poinsettias. She slipped on lace panties but didn’t bother with a bra or shoes. Dragos’s eyes gleamed with approval when he saw her. He had dressed simply as well, in another white Armani silk shirt, rolled at the sleeves, and black slacks.
They walked to the dining room. Her stomach growled at the appetizing smell of roasted meat, fresh bread and garlic.
Appetizing smell . . . roasted meat . . .
A dizzying wave of nausea hit her. What the hell? She came to an abrupt stop, braced one hand on the wall and pressed the other to her stomach as saliva flooded her mouth.
Dragos whipped around. He snaked an arm around her waist. “What’s wrong?”
She held up a hand as she concentrated on deep breathing. The dizzy nausea passed after a moment. She straightened. “I’m all right.”
“You’re going back to the bedroom,” he said. His face set into harsh lines. “I’ll send for our Wyr doctor.”
“No I’m not, and no you won’t,” she told him. She tugged against his hold. He refused to let go of her. “Dragos, please. Cut it out. I’m all right. I didn’t eat much earlier today and I’m just—a whole lot hungrier than I realized. All the good smells are down that way and you want to go in the other direction? Don’t be so mean.”
He acquiesced and let go of her with obvious reluctance. She raised her hands and shrugged at him. He continued to watch her as they went to the dining room.
Two places were set at one end of the large polished mahogany table near the window, surrounded by several covered dishes. White candles were lit, and there was a bouquet of large white roses in a fluted crystal vase. The city skyline was the backdrop for the setting.
Pleasure flooded her. “How beautiful. I adore roses.”