“And you won’t?”
“I haven’t been sick a day in my life.”
“Naga power?”
One of his dark eyebrows lifted. “Something like that.”
My teeth began to chatter, and he cursed softly under his breath. “We need to take your clothes off.”
“We?” I tried for a teasing smile, but my chattering teeth ruined my effort.
He pursed his lips, eyes darkening slightly. “Youneed to take your clothes off.” He broke away from me, and I bit back a sigh of protest as he ducked through a door to my left. He returned moments later with a bundle of clothes. “Put these on. I’ll make you a hot drink.” He left again through the main door, closing it firmly behind him.
My shorts and undershirt clung to my skin, the bandages Darla had applied completely soaked. I peeled off my clothes and dried off quickly, careful to dab around my bruised knee. Whatever Darla had done seemed to have healed the worst of the damage, but I didn’t want to aggravate it. I slipped on the clothes that Vitra had supplied—a loose shirt that came to mid-thigh and loose cotton trousers, which I rolled up so I wouldn’t trip on the hem. There was also a knitted sweater that smelled of sandalwood. Had he worn it recently?
I inhaled the aroma greedily, then froze. What was I doing? This was so inappropriate. He had a girlfriend. Even though they might have some kind of open relationship thing going, I wasn’t about to get involved. Not that he’d asked me to. Would I, though, if he asked?
Dammit. Stop this train of thought right now.
None of this mattered. I had to get back to my room and sort out my wet bandages. I lifted my shirt to check them. Shit, was that blood? Only a little. Thankfully, Darla had left me with a jar of healing magic stuff.
Vitra was waiting in the sitting room and, once again, the details of the room escaped me because all I saw was him—all long limbs and sex appeal, dominating the leather armchair facing me.
He’d dried off and changed into an elegant black silk robe over loose black pants. My gaze zeroed in on his bare chest, on the ink that licked over his taut muscle to vanish beneath the fabric. His hair was still damp, but he’d raked it back. He looked slick and sexy, all lean muscle and power.
He nodded toward the steaming mug on the coffee table in front of him. “Sit and drink that.”
I parked myself on the sofa opposite him and picked up the drink. Tea. Strong. I took a sip. Sweet. Just the way I liked it.
“Do you sleepwalk often?” he asked.
“I’ve never sleepwalked before.”
“Hmm…”
“But I’m fine. It won’t happen again.”
“You can’t know that for sure.”
He had a point. “I’ll lock my door.”
He frowned. “You’re saying itwasn’tlocked?”
“No, it was.” Dammit. “I guess sleepwalking me opened it.”
He mulled this over for a moment. “This is worrying, Anamaya.”
“Yeah, well, what can I do? Tie myself to the bed?”
Did his eyes light up at that, or was I imagining it?
“I have some cuffs I can loan you,” he said casually, as if he’d offered me a cup of sugar.
“If I can unlock a door, then I can unlock cuffs. And why do you have cuffs?”
He tipped his head to one side, his penetrating gaze boring into me. “Why do you think I have them, Anamaya?”
The way he said my name, savoring each syllable, ignited something in me that I didn’t want to address. “Oh…okay.”
