“I’m going to…”
He backed toward the door.
“Eat. With my warriors.”
Hesaidhe usually ate communally, didn’t he? And I’ll admit I was a little relieved not to have to sit across from him during the meal, remembering the way his body had felt atop mine.
Remembering the sinful sights I’d seen today, and the wicked thoughts I’d had about him.
Vrogul’s nostrils flared, and he spun toward the door. But before he stepped out, he cleared his throat.
“The bed. Ye—ye should take it tonight. I’ll sleep on the floor.”
Surprised, I blurted, “‘Tis your bed.”
“Ye have yer knife?”
I pressed my elbow to my side, where the sheath hung from my belt.
“Aye,” I offered hesitantly. “Why?”
“Good. Keep it handy. In case I…”
I saw him swallow, then shake his head and reach for the door.
“Good night, Rowena. Sleep well.”
The door slammed behind him, leaving me with a fragrant-smelling dinner and more questions.
Sleep well? I doubted I’d be able to sleep at all!
