She nods, but instead of coming back, she moves toward the door. With a last look at me, half longing and half suspicion, she leaves.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
IDALLIA
I can’t stop thinking about Bale. That scorching kiss. His simple apology. And he came clean about me being a sunblood. Late is better than never…isn’t it?
I wanted to stay with him so badly back at the inn, to just give in to our heat and connection. Walking away was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
Because what’s really changed? I might suddenly know I’m a vampire who doesn’t drink blood—and resisting Bale’s offer to pierce his vein and drink from him was the second hardest thing I’ve ever done—but I still don’t want to jeopardize everything I’ve worked for.
An evening bath does little to ease my tension. I step out of the cooling water and dry off in the screened alcove at the back of my room. Fyrestar, Rim, and Sol are out hunting and won’t be back for a while, so I simply tie a towel around myself and move toward the dresser to untangle my hair.
My comb and brush set is the only thing from Glarraden House that means anything to me. In an uncharacteristic moment of thoughtfulness, Rita gave them to me. They were her mother’s—a woman I never knew. But her name was Imogen, so an ornate I is carved into each silver handle. If they’d been carved with an R, I probably wouldn’t have been allowed to touch them.
I pick up the comb and start working it through my wet hair, drips rolling down my shoulders and soaking into the towel. Besides this silver set, I don’t really have fancy things. Maybe being the gildenfae-gold kid made me never want to display wealth, or even truly accept my own. The inherited comb and brush are the nicest things I possess, and I wouldn’t have treated myself to them. They always make me wonder if Imogen of Glarraden would’ve made me feel welcome. Old Gus used to talk about her with more fondness than he ever did Rita or Gerard, so maybe she would’ve been a decent grandmother.
My feet sink into the thick, soft rug in front of my dresser. There are three new rugs in my room, which are now the second nicest things in my possession. They showed up yesterday. I didn’t buy them myself, though I’d meant to get some.
My chest tightens uncomfortably. I guess Bale can’t resist giving things any more than he can resist stealing them. My hair first, then the choker. And probably my heart.
I roll my lips in, pressing. Nothing’s really changed, but hasn’t everything? Going backward is impossible, and ignoring things rarely works. There’s no way I can ignore that kiss, and I don’t think Bale will, either. I also worry about his ability to listen when my words don’t match his perception of things.
I look around at the evidence. Didn’t I specifically say I’d buy my own rugs?
But no…
Idallia needs rugs. Provide rugs.
I hear the words in the deeper, raspier rumble of his dragon. Even imagined, that dark-velvet voice carries an underlying swell of fire, heating me from the inside out.
Sighing loudly, I shake my head at my own hopelessness. One kiss and I’m still a bonfire two days later. How does life simply go on after the most scorching kiss of my existence? The one I’ve been secretly craving for decades.
My toes curl into the plush rug just thinking about it, and I feel the pressure of Bale’s lips against mine again. His hands on my back, sliding into my hair. His body, his breath, his groan as he deepened the kiss and gave me exactly what I wanted.
Longing tugs sharply inside me. I haven’t seen Bale since we flew home as a group. I both want to seek him out and escape him. I might come away scathed and hurt and wanting if I see him, but not seeing him might hurt even worse.
A knock at the door startles me from my thoughts. I told Sybil I’d come down to her before dinner, but she must’ve found some free time to meet me instead. We haven’t had a chance to talk in private, and I have so much to tell her. I need advice—or maybe someone to talk me off this fragile limb I’m climbing out on.
I hurry to the door, cold stone attacking my bare feet as I leave the rugs behind. I throw it open and find Bale standing there. Shock slams into me. I pull up short. He takes up the whole starsdamned doorway, and my entire body suddenly feels charged like the air before a lightning storm. His amber eyes widen, gleaming with inner fire, then drop to my chest. I tighten my hold on the towel, my pulse beating so wildly it steals my breath.
“I thought you were Sybil,” I say in a mumbling rush. It’s the second time I’ve made the mistake recently, but in all fairness, aside from when I’ve been badly injured, Bale didn’t ever knock on my door before.
“I’m not.” His voice comes out hoarse, the gravelly abrasion against my heightened senses kindling an instant fire inside me. My belly tightens, and warmth sinks heavily through my most intimate parts. Bale’s nostrils flare as he inhales deeply. His expression darkens with desire, and I slam the door shut, leaving the Dragon King on the other side.
My heart jumping like a startled rabbit against my ribs, I race to my dresser and pull out the first thing I find. A dress. How in the blazing stars did that happen? I only own one, and it’s the first thing I grab?
I pull it over my head anyway. It’s tight and hard to get on, the white fabric sticking to my still-damp skin. I yank it down, wiggling frantically to get it over my hips. My wet hair is cold against my back, making my skin pucker with goose bumps, and my nipples stand out.
Another, more tentative knock comes as I twist the damn thing into place. “Idallia?”
“Just a minute!” Shaking with alarm and anticipation in equal measures, I stare at the door as if it’s my nemesis. I force calming breaths. When I can picture the man on the other side without my heart thrashing like a wild animal, I walk back to the door, open it, and offer Bale a bland smile. “Hello.”
He arches dark brows, his eyes glinting. “Hello.”
Belatedly, I realize I forgot to put on any underthings. Or shoes. I’m just standing there in a white dress I’ve only worn once before, and there’s a very good chance Bale can see my nipples through it. Great. “Did you need something?”
“Going somewhere?” he asks at the same time.
