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She couldn’t help the squeak of dismay that escaped her lips.
His thigh was against her thigh, which, thank God, was covered by layers of clothing, because his forearm was against hers and her skin was touching his near her wrist and she was going supernova at the contact. Hannah tried to scoot further against the wall, but there wasn’t room. And then he draped an arm across the back of her seat and used his other enormous hand to reach over and pick up a curl of her long, strawberry-blond hair and rub it between his fingers.
Like he already knew her. Like they were a couple or something.
Strangely, his presumptuousness didn’t anger her in the least. Realistically, she should be going ballistic, shoving him off and racing out of her seat. After all, she’d been pissed off when T’Antor had touched the small of her back… But instead, she was loving this man’s nearness. And she was pretty damn comfortable next to his big, burly body. It felt…right.
She got lost for a moment staring at his handsome features. The strong jawline and bright silver eyes. Black clothing that was a stark contrast against soft pearly-white skin over hard muscles. Exquisite white-gold stubble glistened on his upper lip and jawline. The man radiated strength and danger, but all she could think of was how his lips looked velvety and oh-so-kissable.
“I am Heriot,” he said with a rough, deep voice, his gaze dropping to her mouth.
She licked her lips. “Hi,” she breathed, “my name is Hannah.”
T’Antor muttered something angry under his breath.
Hannah shook her head, trying to dismiss the spell she was under. What the hell was wrong with her? She was completely enthralled with this guy. The bus pulled away from the curb and an automated message narrated by Alex Trebek started and she wasn’t even listening. And Christ, he smelled so good. Minty fresh, with a hint of leather and something slightly spicy that was all him.
Heriot turned his head to glare at T’Antor. A muscle ticked in his jaw.
Her brow furrowed. “Do you know each other?” she asked.
“No,” T’Antor answered.
“Yes,” Heriot replied.
Oh God, these two were causing her heartburn. This was too much. “Which is it?” she asked again. “Do you know each other or not?”
T’Antor shrugged and said nothing.
“We originate from the same location,” Heriot answered.
“Do you mean you’re both from the same country?” she asked, because they both spoke English with that same accent she couldn’t place. She cleared her throat, not sure of the etiquette in this situation. Was it okay to just outright ask someone if they were albino? “And, um, you’re both…albino, right? I thought you were albino because maybe you were originally from a country where maybe that was more common,” she finished lamely, wondering if they were from Norway, or Iceland… Her hand squeezed her dead cell phone in her pocket, desperately wishing she could quickly google “albino.”
“Albino? What is this term, albino?” Heriot asked.
They were both staring at her now, openly curious to hear her answer. Oh jeez, how in the hell could these two men not know what albino meant? Especially since they were both obviously albino!
“Um, I think albino means a person with really, really light skin, eyes and hair,” she answered. “It means a person without pigment in their skin. Like you guys.”
They both shrugged, unconcerned. T’Antor turned away, already bored.
Heriot said something under his breath she couldn’t understand.
T’Antor glanced back and bared his teeth.
The two men were now completely ignoring her. She was the only one trying to listen to the recorded message about the history of the area they were passing as they drove up the long, winding road to the castle.
“She’s mine,” T’Antor snarled.
Hannah put her hands up. “Whoa. Hold on there. Don’t tell him that. I’m my own person. I don’t belong to anyone.”
“She’s not yours,” Heriot said, ignoring her. “She’s mine. It’s why I’m here.” And then he proceeded to whisper-shout through a whole tense conversation with T’Antor in a language she didn’t recognize at all. It sounded vaguely German, but then not.
Then T’Antor looked at her and back at the stranger, nodded and leaned away.
“What was that all about?” she hissed. “Who are you?”
“My name is Heriot,” he repeated. “And I love your scent, your pheromones.”
