Bael towers over me. He has to be several inches shy of seven feet. “Is there any particular reason you can’t say ‘thank you’?”
“This is not my language,” I point out. “I don’t know the right words. Kasaros must not have gifted me with them when he gave me the ability to understand you.”
His eyes flare in surprise and then he bursts out laughing, shaking his head and muttering under his breath. “Maybe you do have the God’s favor.” Hot amber eyes score me from head to toe, lingering this time. I feel the brush of his gaze against my breasts, my hips, my thighs. “You are trouble personified. Chaos knows, you’d appeal to him.”
“Perhaps,” I brush past him, trying to ignore the beckoning heat of his skin. He burns from within as though his insides house some inner furnace. “Though everyone else seems to prefer redheads.”
“Not I.”
The words come softly, but they imprint themselves on my soul.
I reach for the clothes. “May I?”
“Say please.” There’s dark humor in his eyes.
And everything within me rebels.
“It’s a word of politeness,” he says, definitely mocking me, “that my people use whenever they want something another has. Just in case Kasaros didn’t gift you with that word either. In your case, I have clothes. You need clothes. Though I must admit I’m growing partial to that dress the more it rains.”
I hate it that he’s right. And storming out of here in the dress is pure stupidity, when only my pride stands in the way of warm clothing. “Please.”
“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He hands over the clothes. “You’re welcome.”
I rifle through them, somewhat suspicious when I discover they’re almost the perfect size. “I find it somewhat odd that you’re trying to dress me when most of your brethren are attempting to undress me?—”
“They arenotmy brethren.”
A swift glance at his face shows my careless words struck deeper than I intended. “You’re all here for the same reason.”
“You think you know my reasons?” He arches a brow. “You know nothing about me, little lioness.”
“That’s not helping your cause.”
Bael’s shoulders heave as if I’ve touched a nerve. Then he takes a deep breath and swallows it down, before he offers me his arm. “Truce?”
I stare at the thick muscle in his forearm, and the roughened calluses on his palms. A swordsman, pure and simple.
But an ally?
It would make things easier.
If I could trust him.
But I can’t. Because why would a hunter suddenly desire to assist me in getting my friend back? He has ulterior motives and whilst he might be playing nicely right now, I don’t believe a word he’s saying.
“If you stick with me, I will bring about your ruin,” I warn.
His hand doesn’t waver.
I slide my hand along his arm and capture his elbow as he grasps mine. “Fine. Truce. Now turn around.”
“Why?”
“If you think I’m going to strip myself naked in front of you?—”
“Relax, little lioness.” His eyes gleam and he steps forward, filling the space between us with his imposing frame. He leans lower, whispering in my ear, our arms still clasped. “If I wanted you naked, then you wouldbenaked.”
“Somewhat arrogant of you.” His body is so close I can barely breathe. “Does this fall in line with this odd fantasy you have of pinning me down and spanking me?”
