She thought seriously of locking the bedroom door, but as tempting as that was, it wasn’t an option. She doubted a simple lock would deter General Carver Vincetti. Besides, she couldn’t afford to fall under his suspicion. That meant she couldn’t withdraw, or let him believe she had anything to hide.
Her hands shook a little as she paced, her bare feet scuffing the carpet. Her heart hammered as she imagined that door opening to reveal Carver. What would his expression be as he took in the sight of her—in this nightdress? What would he say? Or would he say nothing, just press her down on the bed?
She could already feel the weight of him, crushing her. His hot breath against her skin. His hands on her body.
Her stomach churned.
She could hear every sound beyond the bedroom, so she knew the moment Ahmi left the apartment. Silence descended within the suite, but it only made the night cries of the jungle louder. She prayed Rix had made it safely to the nearby village; that nothing out there had eaten him.
Amryn finally tired of pacing and stood in the center of the floor, wondering if she should remain standing, or be on the bed when Carver arrived.
The lamps flickered and burned. Her heartbeat eventually evened out, though tension remained in her shoulders as time dragged on. An hour. Two.
Carver did not appear.
Exhaustion had made her sit on the edge of the bed, and—despite her fear and anxiety—her eyelids grew increasingly heavy. This day had been exhausting in every way possible, and she couldn’t help but curl up at the end of the bed, her tired eyes on the door as she tried to stay awake.
She must not have succeeded, because when the bedroom door clicked, she jolted awake.
She scrambled to sit up, clutching a blanket to her chest as she watched the door ease open.
Carver stepped carefully inside, and his eyes darted instantly to the bed. When he met her gaze, he froze. “Apologies. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
His voice—though pitched low—sounded loud in the silence of the shadowed room. It raised every hair on Amryn’s body, making her painfully aware of how isolated she was.
He was staring at her. Waiting for a response, she realized belatedly. “You didn’t startle me,” she said.
He arched a dark brow, but didn’t comment on her obvious lie as he stepped fully into the room. “I just came to grab my things.”
She blinked, her heart still pounding. “Your . . . things?”
He tipped his head. “I’ll be sleeping in the sitting room.”
“Oh.” It was the only response she could manage as she watched him cross the room to his nearest trunk.
Clearly his things hadn’t been fully unpacked yet, either. After some brief riffling, he withdrew a bundle of clothes before he shut the wooden lid and twisted back to her. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” she echoed, stunned. Confusion and sheer relief battled for dominance inside her as Carver retreated without another word, and the door latched behind him. His footsteps carried him back down the hall and away from her.
Was it some kind of cruel trick? Would he be back in a moment? His emotions, strangely subdued, hadn’t given her any clues. He was weary. Surprised to have awoken her . . . could he truly not mean to share her bed?
She waited with bated breath, but his footsteps never came back down the hall.
Slowly, she eased out of bed and padded softly to the door. After a slight hesitation, she twisted the lock, then returned to the bed.
She fell asleep almost instantly.
Chapter 6
Carver
Carver stood in front of the balcony, the glow of morning light permeating the sitting room as he held his pose. He hadn’t bothered to put on a shirt, as the warmth of the climate didn’t necessitate it. With his arms outstretched, he focused on his posture and breathing. The motions of these stretches and accompanying meditation came to him without thought. His grandfather had taught him these exercises when he was just a boy. They were as much a part of him as his own skin.
These days, he actually felt more like himself during these exercises than he didinhis own skin.
As he went through the motions and paused in the well-practiced stances, he tried to ignore the uncomfortable pull of old scars, and the newer wounds that now marred his body.
Instead of the calming silence he normally endeavored to achieve, he heard his grandfather’s voice in his mind.