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Breathing became impossible. He balled and opened his free hand, imagining kneading all her soft places. Her damp cheeks possessed a deeper rosy flush than usual. Was she aroused? Damp hair streamed to the middle of her back, the strands longer by the hour. Perfect for fisting.
Her lips parted under the weight of his perusal.
Will. Not. Kiss. Her.
She appeared fully recovered from their excursions, yet he sensed the depths of her exhaustion, and his chest ached. She’d been through much these past few days. Transported into a different realm. The development of unnatural powers. The attentions of a vengeful king.
With slow movements, lest he alarm her, Kaysar set the glass next to the satchel at his feet and rose.
“Get in the bed.” The command rasped from him. But what else should he say? No other words filled his head.
No, not true. Four others sprang to the surface. I’m sleeping with her.
* * *
COOKIE BURROWED UNDER the velvety covers, getting comfortable on the soft mattress. Fatigue owned her, one hundred percent. Or maybe ninety. Apprehension had a piece of her, too. But she had no fight left, too exhausted to think, much less resist Kaysar’s commands. She couldn’t even ready her best or worst defenses against his appeal.
Cookie wanted to cut herself a little slice of Kaysar.
After Nick, she’d considered herself invulnerable to romance, her heart locked in a stronghold, protected by dragons. Somehow, the enigmatic and ferocious Kaysar was scaling her towers, making her wonder and want and wish. What would a relationship with him be like? Or at least a roll in the hay?
Hunger abated for the first time in days, she should have no trouble sleeping. But each time her mind began its shutdown, a thought about Kaysar popped up, inviting others. She alternated between being too cold and too hot.
Her dark king remained near the hearth, breathing with force, as if he struggled with a choice.
“Are you planning to watch me sleep?” she asked, curious.
“Maybe.”
He’d been mostly quiet since they’d entered the outpost. Now, firelight bathed him, outlining his powerful body and illuminating the lines etched into his forehead. He was opening and closing his hands at his sides. An action he had performed before.
What thoughts tumbled through his mind?
“Kaysar?”
“I’m sleeping with you. Only sleeping.” He stalked across the room, stopping here and there to snuff out the lamps. As darkness thickened, she thawed, glad for the reprieve. “Tonight,” he intoned, “you rest, nothing more. So rest hard. You might not get another chance.”
A warning? Or a promise? She couldn’t tell.
He paused at the side of the bed, and she held her breath. Would he strip?
Clothing rustled. He unfastened his belt. Dang it. He was stripping, but she couldn’t see. Why hadn’t he left at least one lamp on?
The mattress dipped as he stretched out beside her, his drugging scent filling her nose.
Would he make a move, despite his claim? Did she hope he would?
Either way... “Don’t expect cuddles,” she warned. “I hate cuddling, snuggling, canoodling, and everything in between.”
“I would rather die,” he replied with a shudder.
“Good.” Right?
“Good,” he echoed.
Minutes passed, neither of them moving. Outside, a great wind blustered and a shutter slammed.
Remembering how amazing she’d felt in his arms, she inched toward him. Not to cuddle, just to...touch. Connection with another. At the last second, she thought better of it and rolled to her back. But the desire only magnified, until she tossed and turned, miserable.
When she could stand it no longer, she whispered, “Kaysar?” Was he still awake?
“Yes, Chantel?” The rough rumble caressed her ears.
“Try to survive this, okay?” She draped her body over his. He hissed in a breath as she rested her cheek over his heart. His racing heart. He wasn’t immune to her nearness. She burrowed closer.
“Chantel?” he said, the tightness of his voice rousing dread.
Ugh. Was he about to order her to move?
“Do your best to endure this, all right?” He tentatively wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.
Oh. Ohhh. His heat lured her to total relaxation at long last, her muscles suddenly the consistency of jelly. The trials of the day faded. This. This was far better than tossing and turning. From now on, she never wanted to sleep any other way.
So much had happened to her these past few days, she’d needed an anchor in a storm.
“Mmm. You feel amazing,” she said, embarrassed that she slurred. Not just exhausted. Drunk on him.
“You feel...” He hesitated, toying with the ends of her hair.
Her eyelids grew heavy, attempting to slide shut as she awaited his verdict. She fought the deluge of lethargy with everything she had. Will squeeze every drop of enjoyment out of this.
“Necessary,” he whispered, filling the silence.
Sleep? Suddenly impossible. Had she ever been necessary to another person?
Longing as potent as newly popped champagne fizzed inside her, going straight to her head. Wait. Necessary? To a man she’d known a handful of days? No way. He didn’t need her, and she didn’t need him. She didn’t need anyone, and that was that.
