Sighing, she turned to look at Raaevik.
He stood exactly where he had been, arms at his sides, watching her with that unreadable expression.He didn't look proud of himself.He didn't seem to expect gratitude.He just waited.
Then he moved.
Not toward her.Toward the corner of the room, where the attendants had discarded her clothes.Her jeans were gone, vaporized or whatever they did with "unsuitable fabric."But her boots sat in a heap by the wall, scuffed leather and worn soles, the only piece of Earth she had left.
He picked them up and walked back to her.
Holding her gaze, he knelt in front of her while she stared at him in shock.What was this… some kind of weird alien ritual?He’d kidnapped her, and now he had a submissive thing going on?
“Lift up,” he ordered, motioning to her foot.She obeyed automatically.
“Good girl,” he murmured, sliding her boots onto her feet one by one.
"The silk slippers they provided have no traction," he said, not looking up."The floors in the Great Hall are polished stone.You will slip."
She stared at the top of his head.At the boots.At him kneeling at her feet.
He'd noticed.When everyone else was busy erasing her, he'd noticed they were trying to throw away her boots.She blinked hard against the sting behind her eyes.
No, absolutely not.
There was no way she was going to cry over a pair of boots.
