“You arch your brow when you think someone has said something stupid,” he told her quietly. “When you’re nervous, you chew on the side of your cheek. It’s almost imperceptible; I wouldn’t have even picked up on it if I hadn’t been watching you so closely during breakfast. And when you’re angry”—he reached out and brushed his thumb lightly between her brows—“your eyes harden, and a tiny crease forms right here.”
He smoothed his thumbs over the curves of her elbows. “Olena never did any of those things. Really, she only had the two settings: pouty and bitchy. Though, now that I’m thinking about it, she could really pull off spacey as well.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to be saying stuff like that about your Lissa,” she said for lack of a better thing to say.
“Until this is all sorted, you’re my Lissa.” The tiny V formed between his thick brows once more. “You wear her so differently.”
“That is seriously disgusting,” she told him honestly. “It sounds like I skinned her and made a suit. Really, there was no other way you could have put that? Maybe even just not saying anything would have worked.”
Instead of apologizing, he lifted a hand to brush aside a strand of her hair, still frowning. “I wish I could see you.”
“I wish you could see me, too,” she whispered, surprised to find she meant it. Pulling away, she made a big show of rolling her eyes, then bent to undo the straps of her wedges. Kicking those off, she took a moment to relish the soft spongy feel of the odd grass between her toes, then yanked the sundress over her head.
With a start, she realized there were actually perks to looking like someone else. If he had been able to see the real her, she might have been more self-conscious. As it was, Olena had a great form, and one that he apparently knew well. There wasn’t anything Delaney could do that he hadn’t already seen from the actual Lissa.
There was a certain freedom in that.
To his credit, he kept his eyes locked on hers, not taking in her body—aka Olena’s body. When he offered his hand, she took it, and he moved backward, never once breaking eye contact. It was deeper the farther in they went, and closer to the center where he could still stand, her feet hovered over the bottom.
A glance toward the doors showed her that there was a hallway that overlooked the pool. The side that faced them was all glass, so that whoever walked by could look down and see the swimmers.
She didn’t know why, but it creeped her out. There was a distinct fishbowl feeling to it.
She’d been swimming since she was four, so she let go of him and began enjoying the warm water. Her skin tingled slightly whenever she moved, and she shot him a questioning look.
“It’s got healing properties,” he explained. “The green tint is a type of algae found on remote parts of Xenith. A Sutter”—the Vakar word for scientist—“discovered it about five hundred years ago. It’s very expensive and hard to come by, but the Basileus insisted on having it added to this place. It’s a less aggressive version of the Alter Pool, which is a healing source of water that can mend even bone. Only the royal family is allowed access to it. But this will do, and we’re allowed to be here. It’ll heal your cuts and bruises, ease headaches, the like.”
“Is that why you brought me here?” She’d ask more about the Alter Pool later.
“I figured you could use some relief from all the stress,” he confessed. “Don’t Earth girls like spa days? That’s what you call them there, correct?”
“My mother loves them.” She started swimming slow, leisurely circles around him as she spoke. “She goes twice a month. I was invited along once, before my senior prom. It was supposed to be a special treat, so that I’d look and feel my best at the dance. I thought we’d get to spend some time together, but we didn’t. She went off and had a private massage, scheduled me for a mud bath. Suffice it to say, not my thing.”
“And what is your thing?” Before she could answer, he reached out, hooking his arm around her small waist and pulling her in.
Her body slapped against his hard chest, and she instinctually wrapped her arms around his neck. She could feel the thumping of his heart where her breasts were pressed tightly against him, and realized that her own was beating to the same frantic rhythm. Their mouths were mere centimeters apart, and the algae-laced water had done nothing to diminish his firewood scent from this close.
“Um, I like”—she had to pause and re-wet her throat—“bowling.” Her mind latched on to the first thing she could think of, and she realized the second his lips turned up how stupid that was. “But I already told you that.”
“Yes,” he agreed, “you did.”
“I also like—”
“Tamales,” he interrupted. “And movies.”
She narrowed her eyes in mock annoyance. “You trying to impress me or something, Ruck?”
“Ruck?” He canted his head as if thinking it over. “I preferred the nickname Golden Boy, but I guess I’ll take what I can get.”
She hadn’t even noticed she’d shortened his name. It was a bad habit of hers, something she did with all the people in her life she felt comfortable with. There wasn’t a friend she’d had in her lifetime that was without a nickname.
“Olena had one of those for the Zane, you know,” he added.
“She had a nickname for the guy she hated? Was it ‘Asshole’?”
“No,” he said, and laughed, “though that one’s much better. It was Tryst. She said he was physically everything anyone could ever want in a guy, so she’d love to have a tryst with him. That was before their first conversation, of course. Up until then, she used to pine for him in the back of the room.”
“Should we be doing this?” she asked then, not wanting to think about Trystan anymore.
“What?” He lifted a brow. “Having fun?”
“Sure.” She shrugged. “That. And this.” She waved in the tiny bit of space left between them. “Is this something that you and Olena usually did? Get this close?”
“I’ve seen her naked,” he confessed. Then, before she could process how she felt about that, he said, “But she’s never seen me naked. We weren’t together, Delaney, and I told you the truth before. I’ve never been attracted to her.”
“But you are now?” In his eyes, he was currently holding Olena’s body flush against his, after all. It was her mouth he kept sneaking glances at, her eyes, not Delaney’s green ones, that he was staring into.
His grip around her waist tightened, and he cupped her head in his hand, holding her steady. “No. She isn’t who I’m attracted to. You are.”
She allowed herself a moment to enjoy the feel of his hands on her, the heat sparking between them. There was a comfort whenever they were together, as if she knew, despite his being the one who’d taken her, that he would keep her safe. That he would keep his promise to get her back home.
Pulling away was hard, but she disengaged their bodies and floated back a few feet to create space. At his confused and hurt look, she shook her head. She wanted him to keep holding her, and that was scary.
“I wish I could believe that,” she ended up saying. “That you really are feeling this way because of me…”