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I caught sight of my reflection in a mirror and it didn’t help. Long eyelashes drooped over flushed cheeks and the usual tight lips were softened by surprise. The broad shoulders and nice arms were the same, the skin sleep-warm, the signs of the fight almost healed. There were only a few raised, red lines to contrast with the cream and gold.
My fingers slid over the beard coming in along his jaw to the fine-skinned hollow just behind his earlobe, and into his hair. He had nice hands, the fingers blunt and callused, the nails trimmed round and no-nonsense short. He’d be strong, I thought, a shiver of awareness cutting through me.
And the flesh under my palm leapt.
I snatched my hand back, swallowing hard, and the sheet slid off. And there it was, hot and huge, the stretch of it a biting, static ache. Maybe it’ll go away on its own, I thought desperately. I held my breath, panic crowding my lungs, and it actually got bigger. Long and thick, it was darker peach than the rest of him, with an elegant bend to the left. I’ll have to remember to tell Pritkin that he has a pretty dick, I thought hysterically, and shoved a pillow over it.
Someone knocked on the door.
I stared at it, horrified, and yanked up the sheet just before my own frowning face peered around the crack. “Do you mind?” I asked a little shrilly.
“Breakfast,” Pritkin said shortly. He noticed my expression. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing! I’d just like a little privacy.”
“You’re in my body. Privacy is rather out the window, at this point.” He came in, ignoring the glare I sent his perfectly pulled together form. Marsden’s shopping trip must have included day wear, because Pritkin had on a nice pair of khaki capris and a yellow drawstring top.
“I need clothes, too,” I reminded him, hoping he’d go hunt some up.
“Marsden sent you these. They’re his but they should work well enough for the moment,” he said, dropping a bundle onto a table beside a small armchair. And then he sat down.
“What are you doing?!”
“We need to talk.”
“Now?”
“Why not now?”
“I . . . haven’t had a shower yet,” I said lamely, and then it hit me. Cold showers. That’s what guys did about this sort of thing, right?
“You had a shower last night. Get dressed. We need to talk before you see Jonas.” He crossed my legs, perfectly at ease, one strappy sandal dangling from one pale foot. I’d been ready for angry, bitter, miserable. I was having a hard time with the usual brusque impatience. What sucked the most was the sinking feeling that Pritkin was handling this better than I was.
“If I want another shower,” I told him heatedly, “I’ll damn well take another shower!”
“What’s wrong with you?” he demanded. I managed not to shift under that piercing blue gaze. I hadn’t known my eyes could look like that. But then, I doubted they did when I was in residence. And the fact that my own eyes were making me uncomfortable really pissed me off.
“What’s wrong? What’s wrong? I don’t have breasts! I do have other things I do not want. What the hell do you think is wrong?!”
“I thought you were taking this too well yesterday.”
“Running for my life tends to override other issues!” The pillow wasn’t helping. If anything, it had made the situation worse, since Pritkin’s body really seemed to like pressure and friction and heat. As well as just about anything else. I was starting to wonder why he ever got out of bed.
“I should think you would be accustomed to it by now.”
There was something in his tone that had me looking up sharply. If he had a sense of humor I’d suspect him. “No. And it doesn’t seem to be growing on me.”
He waved it away. “We need to discuss our options. Jonas brought you here for a reason. He wants to deal.”
“Yeah. And if the Circle finds out, I’m dead. They hate me already. How do you think they’re going to feel if they believe I’m cozying up to their crazy ex-leader?”
“Not a great deal differently, in all likelihood,” he said dryly.
“Are you seriously suggesting—”
“I am suggesting that you do not agree to anything but that you also do not summarily turn him down. If the Circle continues to be intransigent, he may prove useful.”
“How? By starting a civil war? That would kill off mages at twice the rate and do Apollo’s work for him!” I shifted, trying to get some relief, and accidentally pushed the problem into the pillow. And wasn’t that the world’s worst idea. My heart stuttered slightly, my breath hitched, and I thought, Oh, God.
