Page 40 of Shackled to the World
“Okay.” The troubled expression melted off her face, and she flashed him a small smile bright enough to set-off shockwaves in his chest…because it was meant just for him.
He blew out a heavy breath, only to turn and find Camden and Xander leaning against the wall just out of sight of Annora, both of them grinning like idiots. He scowled at them. “Laugh all you want, chuckleheads, but your nights will come soon enough. We’ll see how easy it is to keep your hands to yourself then.”
He stomped away, their laughter following him, and he let his frustrations melt away.
This was one of the few times they’d laughed since Logan was taken. While it might be at his expense, he could take it. Annora gave them hope when she burst into their lives, and he’d be damned if he’d let anything ruin that.
Even with all the danger—or maybe because of it—the guys were finally coming together as a team after years of working together, and it was thanks to her. As he gathered his pillow and blankets and left his room, he sighed, relieved to find his teammates gone and the hall empty.
He placed his foot on the bottom step, then closed his eyes for a second and prayed to the gods that he would be able to keep his vow not to take advantage of her. While Annora was outside, they decided she shouldn’t be alone, especially at night…but only to sleep.
She was off limits.
Unlesssheseducedthem.
His cock twitched to life, and he cursed the stray thought that slipped past his control. As he climbed the stairs to her room, he recited the flora and fauna of North America.
In alphabetical order.
In Latin.
And as much as he dreaded this night, he was the first to volunteer, eager to spend more time with her. Time he planned to use to convince her that she was madly in love with him, before he allowed himself to lay a hand on her.
He nearly groaned when he finally stepped into her room to see her wearing an itty-bitty tank top and shorts that made her legs go on forever. He dragged his eyes away from her, afraid he’d turn into a drooling idiot, only to have his eyes land on her tiny bed.
He swallowed hard, calling himself all types of a fool for believing he’d be able to keep from touching her in that postage-stamp size queen bed, and nearly strangled while swallowing his tortured groan.
* * *
Annora looked at Mason’s dismayed face, then at the bed, and wanted to smack herself for not thinking of his comfort sooner. No way was his massive frame going to be able to fit. The ferret grabbed her pillow, then loped across the mattress, dragging his prize onto the floor. She rushed toward the bed, quickly following suit and ripping off the blankets. She dropped them haphazardly next to the pillow, trying to spread them out, feeling flustered for not thinking about it sooner. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. We can sleep on the floor.”
At Mason’s strangled laugh, she glanced back, only to find him watching her with his mouth hanging open. She chuckled and sat back, realizing she must look like she was playing some demented game of Twister.
He clutched his pillow and blanket to his chest, and damned if the pillow wasn’t taller than her. Shaking her head at her foolish thoughts, she grabbed her pillow from the ferret and tossed it at Mason, smacking him right in the face. “Get down here and help.”
With a chuckle, he dropped down next to her, and they had the bed sorted in five minutes. As she flipped off the lights, she glimpsed the ferret curled up in the center of the bed, the sheets a little nest around him, completely content to have the place to himself.
As she walked toward her makeshift bed on the floor, she saw Mason’s bright lavender eyes following her every move. They practically glowed in the dark while he watched her like a predator ready to pounce.
As she settled, pulled back the covers, and crawled underneath, he seemed to relax, and she shook her head at her foolish thoughts. She wiggled her feet, seeking to stick them out of the bottom of the blankets. Only she couldn’t. She glanced down to see what was the problem, then huffed on silent laughter.
His blankets were massive.
While she drowned in them on her side, they barely reached his chin and covered his feet. Giving up her struggle, unable to sleep, she shifted, but couldn’t stand the awkward silence a moment longer, and blurted out the first thought that popped into her head. “What size are these?”
“California King.” He reached up and laced his fingers behind his head, placing his massive arms on display. His tattoos rippled as his muscles flexed, and she couldn’t help her curiosity, too hyped up by his nearness to sleep.
She hesitantly reached out and traced one of the bold lines that swirled down from his shoulder and peeked out of his shirtsleeve. “What do your tattoos mean?”
“Why do you think they mean anything?” His deep voice was a low rumble, the playful amusement in them relaxing her.
She didn’t know how to explain what she felt when she gazed at his tattoos. “I don’t know. Something about them reminds me of you.”
“You’re right.” To make her feel more at ease, he looked up through the skylight, allowing her to look her fill of him. “Trolls grow into their powers as they age. The darker the lines, the more tattoos, the stronger the troll.”
“Really?” Annora squinted at the tattoos partially hidden by his shirt, trying to make them out in the dark room. “How do you get them? Are you born with them? Or are they spelled?”
The only magic she sensed was from him alone. His pink hair was shadowed in the darkness, but she could see it swaying hypnotically, as if content, dancing to a song only it could hear. His scent of fresh pine and copper reminded her of the outdoors. After spending years trapped underground, she found it soothing.
