He prowled toward me, and while my heart may have quickened a beat, I still didn’t move. I thought I saw steam rising from his ears as he loomed above me. Maybe my mind was conjuring images, or maybe he really was that angry.
“What. The. F—” Harthon stopped himself with a deep breath. “Etarla, you willdrink, and you willeat, or I swear to the fucking Domus, I will sit here in this gore and force you to do so.”
I blinked slowly. “You must have just killed…a lot of people.” My voice sounded raspy, and a dry cough threatened.
I think I only made him angrier because he put his hands on hisknees, bringing his face level with mine, his pupils so big his irises looked black. “Ididjust kill a lot of people, people who were coming foryou, and then I found out that you’ve decided to do something completely idiotic.”
I frowned. “It wasn’t completely idiotic.”
His teeth ground together. “No? Enlighten me.”
“It got you to come here quicker. You didn’t even bathe,” I noted, wishing the backrest wasn’t trapping me so close to him. The smell coming from him was making my headache worse.
Harthon straightened, and I dimly took in those big, muscled arms as he all but growled, “If you did this for another day, you could die.”
“I’m a captive. Why would you care?”
The muscles in his arms spasmed. “Because you arefartoo important to this world to be able to die, Etarla.”
“You keep saying that I’m important, and I’m tired of not knowing why. Are you finally going to explain?” The words felt like sludge as they came out.
“Yes. Just like I planned to do the entire time, even before you pulled this ridiculous stunt.” He lowered his bloody face toward mine again. “But you will eat and drink right now, and only after that will I bathe, and only afterthatwill I explain things.”
I stared at his lips as he spoke. They were nice and smooth, somewhere between thin and full, forming a neat contrast with the stubble around them. I’d never thought much about men and their facial hair, but on him, it was incredibly masculine. Definitely attracti—
“Etarla,” he rumbled.
Oh, right.
“How do I know you’ll come back to talk?”
“You have my word.”
I nodded, but I don’t think my head actually moved. Harthonstepped away for a moment, and the sound of pouring liquid followed. He returned with a metal cup and held it out to me. With a worrying amount of effort, I lifted a heavy arm and grasped the cup. He released it, and it just fell through my fingers, landing on my belly and soaking my tunic with water.
“Oh. I didn’t…mean to,” I said, lowering my arm to push myself straighter in the seat.
His heated sigh wanted to breathe fire. In a fluid motion, he stepped behind me, grabbed my arms, and hauled me upright.
“I was going to get there,” I grumbled as he poured another cup and brought it to me.
Instead of offering it, I watched as he cleaned his free hand on a cloth that must have come with breakfast. Then that hand, no longer bloody, landed softly on my chin, and his other one brought the cup to my lips.
“I can do it.”
“No, you can’t. Drink,” he ordered, tilting my head back as he tipped the cup.
How he could be gentle when anger so clearly boiled beneath his skin was beyond me.
When I quickly drained the water, Harthon filled another cup. “Slower this time.”
I gazed up at the hard, triangular lines of his jaw as I drank in smaller sips, and then that jaw turned into dark, gold-flecked eyes that roamed my face.
“Do you need help eating?” he asked after a moment, those fingers still cupping my chin.
I didn’t necessarily want them to leave.
“No,” I whispered, and he nodded, finally stepping away.
