Page 36 of Thief of Hearts

Zain made his way over to me and I did my absolute best to keep my eyes on his face and not any of the other tantalizing things he had on display.

“I want you to know that I am highly offended that you fell asleep last night during my story. I am an extremely entertaining storyteller.” He was teasing me but my mind was still trying to work out the fact that he stood in front of me as naked as the day he’d been born.

“Be less boring,” I absentmindedly offered.

Zain laughed.

Was my mouth literally watering? I was thirsty. It was a hot day. That had to explain it.

It had nothing to do with his chest.

“I would have woken you up earlier but you said you were tired and needed to sleep.” How could he be talking about sleep while he stood there without any clothing on?

“Why are the other competitors naked?” I asked. It should have been the first thing out of my mouth as soon as he came over.

Confusion marred his brow. “In the tournament, like the Pythian Games, the competitors are always naked.”

Not only were they nude but they had lathered their bodies in oil. A fact I’d just now picked up on because I was trying so hard to only look at Zain’s face.

A task I was not succeeding at.

I’d told myself that I wasn’t willing to lose control for some charm and a handsome face, but I might be willing to do it for charm, a handsome face, and that body.

He had just permanently ruined me for any other man by the unholy magnificence of his form.

It was so surreal to be having these thoughts and this conversation while only one of us was dressed.

“The games have always been done this way—the ancients thought it made them faster to run without clothes, and they were only interested in the glory of the competition, nothing else.”

I started thinking about all the other events—would I have to do those naked as well? “You could have mentioned that I’d have to be undressed to compete.”

“When I left this morning, I realized that I hadn’t said anything to you last night, so I left you a note . . .” His voice trailed off when he realized what he’d said. “I’m sorry.”

That was what the marked-up paper had been. “It’s not your fault I can’t read. It’s mine.” And my mother’s and grandmother’s, as they thought reading was a waste of time for a warrior, an attitude I seemed to have adopted. “It wouldn’t have changed anything. I’d still be here, ready to race.”

The crowd had started chanting something. It took me a few moments to figure out what they were saying.

They were yelling, “Take it off!”

Like I was some kind of entertainment, only there for their amusement.

I kicked off my sandals. Then I reached for my belt and began to untie it. Zain’s hands covered mine, stopping me. All I could think about was the way warmth seemed to rush from his hands and into mine, filling me with light and heat.

“I would just like to know if I have this right. You won’t let me watch you change but you’ll let a stadium full of men watch while you disrobe?” He was attempting to joke with me to give me a chance to change my mind. Letting me know that I didn’t have to do this.

But he didn’t understand that I didn’t feel pressured or obligated. “They mean to shame and embarrass me and I will not allow them to do either.”

Nor would I sneak off somewhere else to change. I would do it here, in defiance of them.

He took his hands from mine and stared at me.

“What?” I finally asked.

“I admire you so much, illora.”

His admiration would have to wait. I quickly took off my belt and tunic, and then unwrapped my breast band and undergarment. The crowd went wild, as if I were putting on a show for them.

“Now you know why women aren’t allowed to watch the tournament,” he said.