Yet she only ground out through gritted teeth. “I hope you like sleeping on the floor. They were nice enough to offer a soft rug.” She pointed to the thick fur pelt on the floor with a scowl.
Dominic scoffed as he slung his travel pack off his shoulder and shoved it into the chest at the foot of the bed. He swiftly crossed the room, maneuvering around Adara so he wouldn’t come in contact with her as she tossed her bag in the chest as well, sensing the heat radiating from her skin. “Who says I’m sleeping on the floor?” he asked nonchalantly as he hung her new gown in the wardrobe.
She scoffed. “I’m not sleeping on the floor like some kind of animal!”
Oh, now she was merely being stubborn. She’d survived on the streets of Lykrios before as a wanted thief. Surely, there’d been nights she was stuck sleeping in alleyways or the forest floor, unable to find accommodations easily.
“Remember when you called me a gentleman earlier?” he asked, shutting the wardrobe and plopping down onto the bed. “I said, don’t get used to it.” He stretched out atop the thick duvet, crossing one ankle over the other and placing his hands behind his head. He closed his eyes with a pleased sigh, glad to finally relax. His muscles ached from running across the city.
He had no problem sharing a bed with Adara. Sleeping—that was all it was. Besides, physical touch could lead to emotional attachment. He needed her as close to him as possible—physically and emotionally—if he wanted to win this.
Adara glowered at him and crossed her arms. “I don’t particularly enjoy sleeping with snakes.”
Dominic chuckled. “I won’t bite . . . unless you want me to,” he added with a wink. She made a noise of disgust and shot him another death-glare, which only made him laugh more. He enjoyed taunting her. It was too easy, too fun.
Adara huffed, giving up the argument. “I’m going to clean up and change.” She lifted the lid of the chest, grabbed the clothes she’d packed out of her rucksack, and headed for the washroom, slamming the door.
While Adara changed in the other room, Dominic peeled off his tunic, smelling of salt and sea, and tossed it into his bag.
A while later, Adara emerged, drops of water dripping from her dark, wet hair. She wrapped a towel around the ends of her hair, squeezing the moisture out, then looked up at Dominic and paused. Her eyes widened—barely—as they roved over his bare torso, taking in his tanned, muscular skin. She bit her lip and took a deep breath, waves of heat rolling off her in disapproval as she ordered, “Put your shirt back on.” She didn’t acknowledge him anymore as she brushed past him to place her old clothes into the chest.
He was glad she paid no attention to him as he watched her. She’d thrown on a simple sage nightgown, the outfit so at odds with her usual fighting leathers equipped with bandoliers across her chest and knives strapped to her thighs, now bare, the lace trimming of the gown shifting with her strides. “No,” Dominic said, not taking his eyes off her.
Adara slammed the lid of the chest closed. “Put. Your. Shirt. Back. On,” she demanded more sternly this time, rising to meet his gaze.
Dominic leaned toward her, a smug smirk on his face. Their breath mingled in what little space was left between them. “Make me.”
Despite the fire burning beneath her skin, Adara’s features were stone cold. Her harsh glower settled on him, and he almost shivered. “Fine. Don’t,” she growled. “At least now I have something to strangle you with.” She mirrored his cocky expression, then begrudgingly sat on the edge of the bed, as far away from the side he’d claimed as possible.
“Who knows? Maybe I’d enjoy that,” he joked.
“Disgusting prick,” she muttered.
He shook his head at her and padded over to the washroom to clean up for the night. When he emerged minutes later, innothing but a clean pair of brown trousers, he found Adara facing away from him, feet firmly planted on the floor as if she’d sit at the edge of the bed all night.
Dominic chuckled lightly. The mattress sank as he lay on the bed. “Relax, darling. Go to sleep.” He reached for her arm and gently tugged her down toward the sheets.
She slapped his hand away but reluctantly lay down next to him. Once she was settled in, he pulled the blanket over them, soft, silky sheets sliding over his bare skin.
The blankets ruffled as Adara rolled onto her side, her back facing him. A moment passed, the muffled noises from the tavern below keeping them from complete silence. Then Adara twisted to look at him. His brows raised in question.
“Touch me again and the part that makes contact gets chopped off,” she warned before turning away.
He snorted, then raised his hand and sent a gentle gust of wind around the room to blow out all the candles.
Dominic closed his eyes, basking in the warmth of her body next to his, the safety of sleeping in this inn, unrecognized. He smiled to himself under the cover of darkness blanketing them. Despite her agitation toward him and the idle threats, he was making progress. The festival was important to her and he could make her extremely happy if he let her enjoy it. Something had shifted in her eyes when he’d told her they’d stay for Livisian.
She had looked at him like he hung the moon in the sky. Like he strung the constellations across the heavens. Like he was one of her beloved gods.
He couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when she realized it was all a lie, a scheme to make her feel for him, when he took her key.
“Goodnight, Phoenix,” he whispered softly.
“Goodnight, insufferable bastard,” she grumbled back.
He smiled at the gentle playfulness in her voice. Sleep found him more quickly than ever before.
Chapter 27
