I smile at her but receive no smile in return. “Thank you, Rosa.”
Forehead pleated, she scurries out the door.
Once the wood settles, I pivot toward the darkest part of the ceiling.Out. Now.
The sly king morphs into his bird. One bird, from the size of him.Lock your door.
Once you leave.
Because you think a lock will keep me out?His tone is tinged in amusement.
No, because I’m still holding out hope that you’re a decent man who doesn’t leer at women while they bathe.
He sounds taken aback.I don’t leer.
My hand slips to my hip.Oh, really?
You’re my curse-breaker,he says with a hint of exasperation, as though I’m being childish.I watch over you.
I snort at how he justifies himself.Well, no need to watch over me at the moment. I won’t drown in a foot of water.
If you want to get rid of me, lock your damn door.
Fine.I’d meant to do it anyway. Once the lock clicks, I say,All done. Now leave.
Those golden eyes of his linger on my face as he transforms back into smoke. And then they vanish in a dense shadow that slithers toward me.
The room is small, but not so small that he can’t maneuver around me, and yet, as his smoke curls through the divide between door and wall, it brushes against my crossed arms, raising a slew of goosebumps.
“Ass,” I mutter.
Once he’s gone, I turn around and contort my pebbled arms to reach the fastenings of my dress. For someone who doesn’t care to be touched, he doesn’t seem all that bothered with touching others.
A smile flips up a corner of my mouth as I imagine myself petting him. I bet that would keep him away.
You must truly work on your intimidation tactics, Behach Éan.
What Ineedto work on is guarding my thoughts. But aside from that . . .You’d enjoy being petted?
It depends by whom. And where.
My devious smile warps off my face as my mind tumbles into twisted places.I’m about to rouse your stone friends. I’m certain one of them will be only too glad to pet her king wherever it is a king enjoys being petted.
I joust with the laces on my dress, but instead of loosening them, I feel as though I’m tightening them.
Sweat coats my brow as Ifinallymanage to shed the dozen or so kilos of damp velvet. Sadly, I fail to shed the image of Lorcan—the bird—fornicating with one of his other bird people. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping to squeeze the image from my lids, but it only drives it in deeper.
Seventy-One
Loud rapping on my door pulls me out of my bath before I’m ready to leave it.
Groaning, I grab the thin towel folded on the chair, shake it out, and wrap it around myself. I’m expecting Rosa with my clothes but it’s Dante, with no clothes.
He steps inside and runs his gaze around the room, as though he expects me to be entertaining company. Probably a certain crow.
“See.” I flourish one hand, keeping the other on my towel. “I’m still here.”
Dante’s gaze skims my wrapped body.
