Just as Maggie reached to turn the covers on the bed down, the bedroom door opened with no warning. She nearly jumped out of her skin.
An eerie sense of déjà vu hit her. Gideon stood in the doorway, staring at her in silence. His chest expanding, his shoulders lifting, his expression resigned. Embarrassed still from having listened in on his conversation with Carly, she resolutely turned her focus back to the covers, folding them down with careful deliberation.
“I’m tired, Gideon,” she said, making sure her tone left no room for argument. She caught a faint whiff of Gideon’s scent coming from the pillow as she plumped it. Unbidden, their intimacy returned to haunt her. Ducking her head so he wouldn’t see the telltale heat filling her cheeks, she added, “All things considered, I think it best if you sleep elsewhere tonight.”
“That’s not gonna happen, Maggie.”
Something off topic struck her. He’d called her Maggie. Kyanna and Carly were darlin’ or sugar or some other such endearment. But not her. She was just plain old Maggie. Because the few times he’d called her darlin’ had sounded far more like an insult than a compliment. And that didn’t count. A little kernel of hurt settled in the pit of her stomach. Why, she couldn’t figure out. She’d never liked the lovey nicknames to begin with. Yet that he felt so free to use them on others…stung.
That hurt gave her the courage to lift her chin and glare at him. “Well, you aren’t sleeping here.”
“This is my bedroom, darlin’,” he reminded her. And there was that pissed off, insulting tone again. As if she needed the reminder.
Slowly, deliberately, he moved farther inside the room and closed the door firmly behind him. He kept his gaze locked on her as he lifted the hem of his T-shirt. He whipped it over his head, and casually tossed it into the corner.
The spit dried in her mouth.
But then—finally!—her pride decided to show its face. Where it had been for the last few days while she’d shamelessly thrown herself at him, she couldn’t say.
“Fine. Then I’ll find someplace else to sleep.”
Back stiff, she stalked around the foot of the massive bed and made to walk past him, bracing herself for the moment he reached out to grab her. She even mentally rehearsed the techniques for breaking an attacker’s hold, the same ones that Gideon himself had taught her. But as she walked by, he made no move to stop her.
Pride smarting at the latest blow, she kept walking, chin up, head held high despite the annoying burn of unshed tears rapidly forming. She made it all the way across the room in oppressive silence, bravely holding the tears at bay. She’d just use the bedroom Gideon had slept in her first night here and come back for her things in the morning.
She reached for the doorknob.
“I’ll only follow you, Maggie,” Gideon said on a deep sigh.
“What?” She whirled around, sure she hadn’t heard him right.
“I said, I’ll only follow you,” he repeated, his expression reconciled.
“Why?” She shook her head, clutching the doorknob as she debated the wisdom of bolting. How far could she make it before he caught her? She’d wager not even to the stairs. And boy, wouldn’t that be the last nail in the casket bearing her pride?
“Ward stones and spells aren’t infallible.”
“Ward stones?” She felt like an idiot, but she couldn’t follow this sudden change in topic. What had ward stones to do with where he slept?
“Ward stones and spells have been breached before. I can’t use Kyanna’s enchantments. They would render me powerless, and I might need to fight. I’m sorry, but I’m not willing to risk your safety, not even for the sake of your pride.”
Now that stung.
“You mean you aren’t willing to risk your precious relic?”
His head snapped back as if she’d struck him.
In a heartbeat, he was across the room and in her face.
“Is that what you think of me, Maggie?” His breath was hot against her cheek. His furious stare burned her. “Really?”
Her first instinct was to step back. To yield. But she’d hit her limit. Caution might be the better part of valor. Right now she was feeling much too reckless to care. Maggie stepped into his space, glaring right back. How dare he play the innocent martyr here?
“But that’s just it, isn’t it? I don’t really know you at all, now do I?”
“Do you honestly want to go there?” he snarled, bristling with aggression. “Because I could vehemently argue to the contrary.” His large hand covered her abdomen with such extreme gentleness that she shot back like she’d been struck by lightning. Safely out of reach.
“Why didn’t you tell me about how you feed?” she demanded, desperate to restore her defenses against this man. This demon, she reminded herself, however unfair she was being. “Why didn’t you tell me about how you and Michael used to be besties?”