Xenia opened her mouth to protest, but couldn’t think of anything else to say. Nothing that would convince Cael of his own worth. He’d had centuries to reinforce these misguided beliefs about himself. And also happened to be the most stubborn person she’d ever met. What could she do to break through to him?
She mulled it over as she drifted off into a shallow, restless slumber.
CHAPTERFORTY-THREE
Sleep was an elusive mistress.
The sheets irritated Cael’s scar and the glowing neon lights outside the curtainless windows pulsated behind his eyelids.
He’d spent the last several hours wrestling with what he wanted versus what was right.
A war-torn continent was no place for a human. And even if he were able to sneak Xenia into Brachos, he shivered at the thought of what Arran would do if he found her. If his father ever realized how much she meant to him…
Cael knew Xenia needed to return to the colonies. But being around her, soaking in her positive energy, made him feel better about his own miserable circumstances.
And he couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss. He’d told her it was a mistake. Which it probably was.
Still, it haunted him.
The sweetness of her lips, the softness of her body, the urgency in her embrace.
As if she wanted him just as desperately as he wanted her.
How was it possible to be torn apart and put back together in the span of twenty seconds?
Dawn was approaching far too quickly. And with it, their final hours together.
Music began to float into the room—a slow, melancholy melody. A street musician warming up for a day of busking, perhaps.
He flopped onto his side to study the woman in the bed across from him. The hand tucked up under her chin, the wild curls spread across her pillow, the bare shoulder peeking out of her duvet.
Xenia’s story about the scholar hadn’t necessarily shocked him. What male could resist her? And he knew she shared a streak of rebelliousness with her friend Cassandra, though Xenia’s had softer edges.
No, the part of the story he couldn’t stomach was that the scholar had stolen something from her. And hadn’t exposed himself as a thief until it was too late for Xenia to protect herself. The bastard hadn’t even made it enjoyable for her.
Even if Cael couldn’t fix himself, hecouldfix this. Provide her with the pleasure she’d so cruelly been denied.
He wouldn’t take her, as much as he longed for it. Especially since they’d be parting ways later this morning. That would make him no better than the scholar.
But he could give hersomethingto hold onto.
A memory for them both to hold onto.
* * *
Xenia woketo gentle music and her blankets slipping away.
Cael stood at the foot of her bed, sheets clutched in his hands, and sucked in a sharp breath as the fabric slipped below her breasts.
She made no attempt to cover herself as she whispered, “What are you doing?”
“Righting a wrong.” He tossed the linens aside, devouring her nearly naked body in his storm-cloud gaze, then held out a hand. “Dance with me.”
She pushed upright and took his hand, afraid to ask another question. Convinced her tortured heart would tumble out the moment she opened her mouth.
Cael wrapped an arm around her waist and cradled the back of her head, tucking her against him.
She released a contented sigh at the skin-on-skin contact she’d been craving for so long. She snaked her arms underneath his armpits, clutching his powerful shoulders, and goosebumps pebbled her limbs as her breasts crushed against his hard, naked chest.
