My hand moved of its own volition to brush against the muscle of his biceps. His skin was warm and soft. I had forgotten.
I jerked my traitorous hand away and held my breath. He didn’t wake up. Part of me wished he would. If I had his anger and disdain, his biting comments, it would make it easier for me to regain control of myself. Because right now I was thinking about the man who had told me he didn’t want to hate me. Who had held me as I cried. Who had shared stories about his mother, who had given me her library.
I had no defense against that version of him.
He continued to sleep, deeply breathing in and out. I put my hand against his chest and watched it rise and fall slowly. His face turned slightly toward me and I reached out to trace the scar on his face. How many attackers had there been? There must have been an entire legion to slip past his defenses and permanently scar him.
It was proof of how hard he could love. How he had been willing to sacrifice himself for his younger sister.
Fuzzy and warm feelings rose up in my chest and I found myself scooting next to him, laying my head against his shoulder. His arm slipped out from under his pillow and reflexively went around me.
He was holding me, which was what I had wanted. I would stay here for just a moment and let myself have this. I wasn’t hurting anyone other than myself. The only person being tortured was me, as I thought of the things I wanted but could never have.
As I snuggled against his side, I was struck with a feeling of rightness, as if this was where I belonged.
Panic at that thought closed up my throat and I tried to move, to disentangle myself from him.
But his arm tightened around me.
I was stuck.
“Stop moving and go to sleep,” he said, and he sounded completely awake.
The panic intensified. How long had he known that I was staring at him? He was a seasoned warrior. Of course he was awake. Of course he was always aware of his surroundings. Obviously he had known that I was staring, that I had touched him, that I had curled my body against his. How many times had I been jerked awake because of a sound he’d made in the night?
The humiliation was almost more than I could bear. As I tried to calm my breathing, I reasoned that if I didn’t move, I could pretend this away. If I hurried back to my side of the bed, then he would know that I knew. Tomorrow I could lie and say that I had been dreaming, that I didn’t know what I was doing, but only if I remained in his arms.
And I convinced myself that it was the only reason I stayed right where I was.
The next morning I huddled into the warmth I felt. It took a few moments for me to remember where I was and what I had done. My eyes flew open as I realized that I had draped my body over Xander’s. He still held me tightly. I could feel his lips against my forehead and my stomach started fluttering.
My face was hot as I carefully peeled myself off him and then tried to roll away.
Only to realize that my hair was trapped under his body. He followed me, as if he had missed my warmth. He put his arm around my waist, threw his leg over mine. I immediately stopped moving and held completely still, hoping he might not realize that I had woken up.
I didn’t know how long I could stay here, though. The tribute race was today and I had to get to the temple.
He nuzzled his nose on the back of my neck and I felt the tiny hairs there rising up in response as I fought back a shiver. He inhaled deeply, as if he were taking in my scent.
“Mmm, Chryseis,” he murmured.
I squawked in outrage and turned over to shove him out of the bed. He hit the floor with a thud and was laughing. He had said her name with the sole intent of vexing me.
“That wasn’t funny,” I told him with a growl.
“I beg to differ,” he said, propping himself up on one elbow. “I was wondering how long you would pretend you were sleeping.”
“And I was wondering how long you were going to lie on my hair and keep me trapped!”
Io must have heard us because she called my name through the wall, telling me to hurry up and get ready. Today I was going back to the temple and I didn’t have time to deal with Xander.
Not wanting to step over him, I went down to the foot of the bed to get out. It required me to awkwardly scramble over the linens trunk and I felt his gaze on me the whole time. I stepped behind my dressing screen to take in a big, shaky breath.
I had bought into the fantasy he created so many times and I was determined to not do it again.
I quickly changed and strapped every weapon I had onto my body. It might be a risk going to the temple and I wanted to be fully prepared.
When I stepped back out, Xander was gone. I hadn’t heard him at all. He was capable of being so quiet when he wanted to. I was a little disappointed. I had hoped to say goodbye to him before I left.