She was now wide awake—her mind jumping forward to what lay ahead.
In just a few hours, they’d steal into Mir-Brennan Tower and free her family. Adrenaline spiked then, and her heart started to race.
Nothing could go wrong.
Jenna swallowed then and realized she was thirsty, almost painfully so. Her mouth felt like Idral’s sunbaked earth.
She lay there for a while, debating whether just to ignore her thirst, but she couldn’t. Eventually, she pushed herself up and switched on a globe-lamp on her bedside table, blinking as soft light flooded her room.
Pulling on a tank top, Jenna stood up and padded barefoot across to the door. She was reaching for the door when she hesitated and glanced down at herself. She was half-naked; underwear wasn’t the right attire to venture out of her room.
However, at this hour, there wouldn’t be anyone around.
She’d risk it.
Letting herself out into the lounge, she peeked around, just to be sure.
As expected, the space was empty, except for the battle-droid; Obsidian was plugged into the wall, recharging. Someone had left one of the wall lamps on, probably in case any of them needed to get up in the night and didn’t want to fumble around in the darkness.
Satisfied she was, indeed, alone, Jenna walked across to where the fridge hummed. A water dispenser sat on top of it. Grabbing a glass, she filled it and drank deeply. She then refilled it.
“Thirsty too?”
Jenna’s breathing caught as she swiveled around—and came face-to-face with Malik.
“Gods.” She brought a hand to her chest, over her wildly kicking heart. “Don’t sneak up on people like that.”
His mouth curved. “I thought you heard my door open.”
“I didn’t.” Jenna clenched her fingers around her glass before she thrust it at him. “Here.”
Her manner was abrupt, yet her heart was still hammering.
She’d just realized her bodyguard was wearing even less than she was.
Malik was clad in nothing but a pair of black shorts—the kind that molded to him. It was impossible not to admire his bronzed skin and the muscle that rippled just under it. And it was difficult not to let her gaze drift lower.
Those shorts left nothing to the imagination, and without even meaning to, Jenna’s gaze dipped south, before she snapped it back up to meet his eye.
Curse him, he’d seen. Was that a smirk she’d noted curving his lips?
Malik took the glass, his fingers brushing hers, and drained it in two gulps, passing it back to her. “Neither of us drank enough water yesterday,” he said. “We’re both dehydrated.”
He was looking at her with that expression she recalled from Morith—when they’d been in that booth in the pleasure house. His gaze was hooded; it smoldered, making something low in her belly catch fire.
Her breathing quickened, and she abruptly turned away and refilled the glass. “Do you want any more?”
“Yes, thanks … but you drink first.”
Jenna took a few gulps from the glass before setting it under the water dispenser and topping it up.
The skin on the back of her neck prickled; she could feel his hot gaze on her. Part of Jenna wished he’d back off—but another part of her craved his attention.
She was suddenly hyper-aware of Malik, as she had been that night.
Only this time, she couldn’t blame the Horn Punch.
Marshaling her thoughts, Jenna turned and handed Malik the glass once more.
