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“Ryker?” Daethian smiled, slipping from his room and closing the distance between us.
I looked up at him, waiting expectantly. We hadn’t seen a lot of each other in the past couple of days. Just the passing hello and goodbye. Though he ended up walking me back to my room in the evenings.
“Want to grab something to eat? I could use a good conversation. Randsin has been like talking to a brick wall.” He casually placed his hands on his lean hips, giving me his famous half-smile that showed off the dimple in his cheek.
I hadn’t caught Daethian’s scent on any of the females here, and there weren't any lingering smells on him now. Part of me melted with relief. He stiffened when a particularly pleased moan carried down the hall.
My attention darted back to Dace’s door. A split second thought to double-check that the sound hadn't been coming from his room either. Daethian followed my gaze.
“Uh, I don’t know, Daethian,” I hedged. I kind of just wanted to crash for the night. “How is Randsin doing? Healing nicely?”
He chuckled dryly. “He is okay, though he won’t tell me what all his tattoos are from, or what they mean. Even stole one of my shirts to cover himself up so I couldn’t look at them anymore.”
I lifted my hand to scratch the back of my head, the gesture never fully making it. Daethian reached for my hand, interlacing his fingers with mine, and took one step down the hall.
“Ah, come on Ryker. It won't hurt to let loose for one night.”
He tugged me another step forward. My feet dragged against the stone floor slowly. I tried to smile back, but my body still screamed with the need to be touched, and Daethian’s hand held mine so tight that it scattered my thoughts. Something like that between me and him could ruin our relationship.
“No, no,” I amended, trying to slip out of his grip.
He had turned away to face the direction he meant to take me down the hall. His body froze, his hold on me tightening so quickly that my hand screamed in pain and joints popped. Hot air hissed through my teeth, heat swarmed my face, and I ripped my hand away from him with a shout.
“Daethian, what in Havala is wrong with you? That hurt.” I cradled my hand to my chest and flexed my fingers up and down.
His boots squeaked against the stone as he swiveled to face me. Everything in his gaze was focused and tense. His normally caramel-brown eyes looked near black, like spilled ink inside his irises, leaving them cloudy and dark.
“Daethian?” I mumbled, stepping closer and touching his cheek with my palm. “Are you okay?”
He blinked, his eyes returning to their normal light-brown in the light again. It must be a figment of my imagination,I told myself as Daethian laughed quietly and pressed a kiss into my hand.
“Sorry, I guess I still don’t know my own strength yet. Go ahead and enjoy a night to yourself. We can catch up tomorrow.”
“That sounds lovely,” I said slowly, not quite sure I believed him. Maybe I’d mention something to Suzetta.
Daethian’s throat bobbed. He turned back the way he had wanted us to go, raising both hands to scrub at his face before they ran through his hair, leaving me to stand outside my room with my brows furrowed.
That was odd. Maybe I need more rest than I am letting myself have.
Slipping into my room, I pulled the door closed behind me and leaned against the thick wood. Sunlight still hovered over the horizon, spilling through the open curtains and across the dusty floor. Sleep would still be a few hours away. My gaze traveled over the messily made bed, a mannequin still pinned with cloth in the corner, and the pillows embroidered in sparkling threads that I’d tossed in a corner. I looked over the framed images of gowns that were in the planning stages, waiting to be made. Thick bolts of fabric were still stacked together by the desk that held pin cushions dotted with needles. I hadn’t changed much since I had begun my stay here. Maybe I should make it my own? The room was a little too bold. It needed to be beautiful, but humble. This room was not humble at all.
Then my attention fell on the wardrobe. Fancy dresses ranging from floor-length to mid-thigh, voluminous to body-hugging, and overstated rhinestone-covered to understated satin. Maybe I should just try one on. It couldn’t hurt to have just a little bit of fun. And I was in my room where no one could see me so…
With large eager steps I moved to the wardrobe and flung open the doors. Materials of all different colors burst out from their restraints like they had been stuffed in there for far too long. Emerald, mauve, lemon-yellow, jade, lavender, onyx, and indigo; so many colors to choose from, and the choice was all mine.
Gently, I lifted a hanger off the rod, pulling down a daring red dress. This dress was certainly not humble and it was something I would never set foot in public in. Light bounced off the crystal pendants that hung off of every inch of the material; they chimed together like the gentle sound of soft rainfall.
The sleeveless top covered only the smallest amount of skin before the neckline dipped so low it had to be near where I would imagine someone’s belly button was. The back of the dress was simple enough with just a zipper to get in and out of the garment. There wasn’t enough material for it to be one of those poofy, old-fashioned gowns, and the ruching at the sides gave me the impression that it clung relatively close to the body.
I pressed my lips together. My cheeks hurt from excessive smiling. With a small, giddy squeal I set the dress down and ripped off the plain clothes I had been wearing to train in, kicking them to the side. The zipper of the dress split open smoothly. Inside the gown, buttery fabric caressed my legs and I pulled it against me.
Sounding like a wind chime on a particularly gusty day, I shimmied over toward the long mirror that leaned against the wall. I grinned at myself in the mirror. Contorting my arms, I worked up a sweat pulling the fabric back together and twisting this way and that to work the zipper back.
I relaxed my shoulders with a steady exhale, finally in the dress. I turned, sending dots of light shining over the walls of my room. The dress was magic, utter magic. Somehow it had turned my lean, nearly-flat physique into the curves of a rich, well-fed woman. My hands slid from the small of my waist over the curve of my hips. My eyes following the red gown to where it draped over my feet on the floor. This is what it must feel like to be beautiful.
My calloused hands worked to tame my frizzy hair. I smoothed it this way and that but it never quite tamed the curls that poked out around my face. Carefully, I pinched my cheeks till they reddened like blush. If only I could find jewelry, I’d—
Two rapid knocks at my door drew me from the fantasy. Every bead clinked loudly as I twisted toward the noise.
