With a sneer, he drags me toward the kitchen, and I wonder if the male is trying to pull my arm out of the socket. He parks me in front of the sink and hands me a glass. I fill it to the brim, take my time sipping it, and fill it once more, his disposition growing darker by the minute.
I have no doubt he will interfere in any further attempts I make at leaving my room this evening, so I decide to make the most of my current freedom. If it can even be called such a thing with my gloomy guard in tow.
My eyes land on the kettle sitting on the countertop among a clean stack of cups.
“You know what I really need? A cup of tea to help me sleep.”
“I’m not making you a cup of tea,” he says through gritted teeth, his patience with my game obviously coming to an end.
“That’s fine. I’ll make it myself.”
I snag the kettle off the counter and turn toward the fireplace. He latches onto my bicep once more, pulls me close so that he’s looking down on me and I can feel the heat of his breath when he growls, “You’ve had your water, now go to your bed before I drag you there.”
He has no idea just how many men I’ve known just like him. Men who would try to command me, expecting me to cower and jump to meet those demands the second they are uttered. They are all the same, and I’m sure, just like every other man and male on the face of Terr, his bravado doesn’t run as deeply as he’d like me to think.
I soften my face and look up at him through long, dark lashes, taking a step toward him rather than pulling away as I breathe out in a whisper, “Sorry to disappoint you, General. But that’s one place I’ll never let you drag me.”
His eyes widen and his head reels back as if I’d attempted to strike him. He clenches his jaw so hard I think I can hear his teeth begin to crack under the pressure. Finally, he releases my arm.
A quick glance around the main room tells me there is no one elsesleeping downstairs.
Interesting.
I tuck the knowledge away and swing the kettle over the flames before picking Awri’s fea book off the table and falling into a large comfortable chair in front of the fire. I don’t have to look to know the general is standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the room I now occupy. A hefty dose of gloomy melodrama is billowing out from that direction.
“Once you’ve had your tea will you go to your room?”
I can’t help but grin at the plea as I flip through the pages before me. “Perhaps,” I say, and the general scoffs at my answer. “I don’t sleep well in strange places.”
I give him that much. It’s an honest answer, though I don’t intend to elaborate. Without the herbs to keep my demon at bay I’m beginning to seriously consider staying up for the duration of the night. If any of my new companions witness a single one of my episodes, I will never make it into the king’s presence.
“Fine,” he says.
I turn, shocked he’s allowing it without throwing a fit. By the time my head whips around, he’s already gone. I frown when he emerges from the kitchen with a jar of loose tea in one hand and two cups in the other.
“You’re a guest in my friend’s home. It would be rude of me not to keep you company,” he says.
I hate the taunting quirk at the edge of his lips.
Then again, it isn’t the worst thing to have an opportunity to put the general’s mind at ease about me. He has made his distrust of me clear since our first encounter at my uncle’s estate. I’ve begun to wonder if I’ve let my guard down unwittingly and he’s seen glimpses of the Drakai lurking beneath my surface. Though, given his nature, I suspect he is highly distrusting of everyone upon first meeting them. Either way, he is just one more obstacle I’ll need to overcome before his king returns.
I settle into my chair and flip to the next page. The crone stares back at me.
“You’re frowning,” he says, his voice gravelly with want of sleep.
“I’m not,” I say.
He puffs out his disbelief and I school my features, softening the fine lines that pinch my brow when I ask, “Have you ever seen her?”
He leans over to look at the page. “Happily not. I hope I’ll never need anything so desperately that she seeks me out.”
“I wouldn’t wish that type of need on anyone,” I tell him.
It’s true, I wouldn’t. Not even on him. It’s the memory I hate reliving more than any other. Even after all these years, the fear and helplessness of that day are too potent and easy to recall. Like a wound that will never fully heal. Easy to forget at times, easy to learn to live with, but all it takes is a small jab in the right place to be reminded of what I nearly lost.
I startle when the kettle whistles. The general pulls it from the fire, pours two cups of hot tea and hands me one, before taking a seat in the chair beside me.
“Thank you,” I say.
