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She traced over the image of the wooden winged creature. Maybe she could stay. She was no longer Odette, the assassin. It was time to figure out who she was on her own terms. “Won’t a swan be obvious?”
He shrugged. “Keep it hidden under your clothes.”
“Speaking of clothes. Do you think I could wear something else?”
He raised an eyebrow. “I’m kind of partial to the thin white fabric.” His gaze traced the rust marks along her dress, down to where he’d rubbed her chains between her legs. “I enjoy seeing all my endeavors.”
“Your dirty deeds, you mean.”
A grin split his face. “I brought some clothes for you to wear.” He motioned toward a tunic and a pair of trousers that lay behind him on the blanket. Odette gasped and snatched them up. Not caring that Rothbart was watching, she ripped off her old clothes and pulled on the new.
Feeling their warmth on her limbs, she sighed, content. Perhaps her skills weren’t all bad if Zoya felt confident enough to ask for Odette as her bodyguard. Maybe she could use her training for something worthwhile. She settled back onto the blanket next to Rothbart. “I suppose I could accept your sister’s offer.”
“There is one more thing.”
“What’s that?”
A dark desire stirred in his gaze.“The pendant’s original purpose remains. So I shall be at your beck and call whenever you summon me.”
A smile crossed Odette’s face. “I like that.” She leaned over and kissed him. “I enjoy romance books.”
“Pardon me?”
“You asked me once what books I like. I used to read romance books. But after Bash…” A lump formed in her throat and her voice grew rough. “But I think I want to read them again.” She lay back, placing her head in his lap, and stared up at him. “Will you touch me, gently?”
He appeared confused at her request. “I don’t wish to cause you pain.”
Odette’s emotions rose, and her voice shook as she spoke. “I never got to grieve him. If you’ll help me—I don’t want any walls restricting our relationship.”
“Whatever you wish, Odette.”
His fingers brushed her cheek, feather-light. He caressed her jawline, drawing his touch over her throat and into her shirt, dragging between her breasts. She shut her eyes and tears slid down her cheeks as she remembered that night with Bash, his death, as crimson spreading over the sheets, his loss. Her loss. A small sob rose out of her.
Rothbart paused.
“Keep going,” she whispered, her cheeks now covered in wetness. So he did, his touch flowing over her body, stroking over her skin.
Maybe she did deserve this. To experience love, happiness. She had loved Bash, but she had found an unspoiled love in Rothbart. She could be vulnerable with him. She’d hold them both in her heart. The past and the present, the pain and joy.
As the sun rose, her tears faded and Odette felt cleansed, new.
She sat up and she wiped her face. Turning, she kissed Rothbart, softly, enjoying the taste of him on her lips.
“I’m yours,” she murmured.
He lifted her into his lap so he could kiss her deeper. “We are each other’s,” he rumbled.
“Utterly and completely.”
The End
