Page 57 of Promise of Darkness
“Maybe the demi-fey led me here,” I reply with a shrug. “I was half-comatose myself.”
And they’ve been known to lead strangers to safety in trying circumstances.
Of course, they’ve also been known to lead them to their doom.
There’s no other answer Icanbelieve.
“Maybe.” He rubs at his temples. “How did you get me here?”
I proceed to tell him about the past two days.
And, of course, he lifts the furs and glances down, then looks up at me with one eyebrow arched. “Did my Shadows destroy my clothes, or did you finally succumb to my charms?”
“What charms?” I growl under my breath as I push to her feet. “That’s exactly what happened. When you were unconscious, I could no longer contain myself and tore your shirt to shreds. Don’t worry. You’re definitely more irresistible when your mouth is shut.”
His eyes narrow.
“And it wasn’t as though the cold made you any less a man.”
That shuts him up.
He pushes upright, the heavy muscles in his shoulders flexing as the furs fall into his lap. “I guess you won’t mind if I do this then.” Throwing aside the furs, he slings his legs over the edge of the bed.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I arch a brow as he pushes to his feet. If the bastard thinks me a very maid, here to blush and stammer just because he has his cock out, then he’s sorely mistaken.
“If you’re trying to impress me, I’d suggest you wait until you’re not covered in blood.”
He suddenly sways and nearly goes to one knee. Only a last-minute grab at the bedframe saves him.
“No, please,” I say, not taking my eyes off him. “Don’t kiss my boots in gratitude. I’m not one for genuflection, though I must admit, there’s something about the thought of having you on your knees in front of me that gets me quite hot under the collar.”
Thiago pushes away from the bed. “Is that what it takes? Because there’s a lot of things I can do on my knees that’ll put a smile on your face. And it doesn’t involve kissing your boots.”
Heat sears my cheeks. Someone’s recovering well enough. If anything was going to convince me he’s not going to die on my watch, it’s this.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“I need to… clean up.”
He manages to make his way inside the wash chambers without a single comment about me washing his back.
“You’re welcome,” I mutter under my breath.
When he returns, he’s draped in a blanket that he’s managed to wrap around his lean hips. It does nothing to disguise the chiseled vee of his hips and the tented suggestion behind the fabric.
He has, however, peeled most of my bandages off.
Every inch of him is smooth, flawless skin once again.
“You healed yourself.” It’s the sort of thing one isn’t encouraged to do, as healing draws upon the power within a body and he’s barely recovered. “You shouldn’t have.”
“Someone had to.” Thiago sinks onto the bed, looking wan. Despite his lack of cuts and bruises, he’s doing his best to resemble an animated corpse.
“I did my best.”
He finally looks up. “And I’m grateful for it. You saved my life.”
Awkwardness falls over the room.
