He brushed a strand of red hair behind her ear, then tugged the blankets up to cover her shoulder, running his thumb over a freckle. The two puncture wounds from his bite last night had faded.
He got out of bed, then cleaned up the chessboard.
“Another round?” Mireille murmured into her pillow.
Ronin chuckled. She’d been a very quick learner, absorbing the rules and strategy more quickly than any novice he’d everplayed. Not that he was surprised, with that cunning, steel-trap mind of hers.
He hadn’t gone easy on her. He’d won the first three games, then had been genuinely thrilled when she’d won the fourth. She’d accused him of letting her win, and he couldn’t tell which had turned him on more: her fiery anger that he’d gone easy on her or her sheer joy when he’d insisted she reallyhadbeaten him.
Her eyelids drooping, she’d demanded they play again. But by then, dawn’s mauve light was crowning the Blackspurs and he’d convinced her they should get some sleep. She’d told him about her impending meeting with Otto this morning, and he wanted her to meet it fresh and alert.
He was surprised he’d been able to sleep at all. He’d struggled these past few nights, without the aid of the Delirium. And after their little liaison in the chair last night, he’d yet again been completely sober.
But as he’d fallen into bed with Mireille, close but not touching, her soft breaths and sighs had lulled him into his own restorative slumber.
It was…nice. Sharing a bed with a female without trying to fuck her.
Not that those thoughts had been too far from his mind as he’d drifted off.
She pushed up from the mattress, the bright morning sunshine haloing her silky hair and glinting in her silver eyes.
His heart somersaulted in his chest.
Ours, his wolf whined.
Not yet, Ronin answered.But…maybe someday.
You should offer to clean her. A proper tongue bath to help her wake up. Start with the fur between her legs.
Honestly, I thank the High Gods every day that I’m the only one who can hear you.
His wolf chuffed, then panted as Mireille raised her arms above her head and exposed the taut planes of her stomach.
Ronin turned away, not needing that particular distraction, and headed for the bathroom.
“You chickenshit, Butcher? Afraid you’ll lose again to someone who just learned how to play your silly horse and castle game?”
Ronin crossed his arms and leaned a shoulder against the door frame as Mireille’s gaze blazed a trail across his bare torso.
“Pretty cocky for a female who only won because she dipped her neckline down to distract me with her gorgeous breasts while I was trying to concentrate on my move.”
Mireille cupped those gorgeous breasts, and Ronin’s wolf howled. “I will never understand why males are so distracted by these, but I thank Faurana the Mother for them every day. Makes at least one of my jobs so much easier.”
Ronin hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Mind if I shower first?”
Mireille waved a permissive hand. “All yours. Try not to drown in the tub again, please. I need my partner.”
Ronin laughed, loving that she could be playful about last night. He should have been so fucking ashamed of the state she’d found him in. And under other circumstances, he might have been.
But the beautiful, fierce little female now performing her morning stretches had chased all that away.
He gazed at her from the bathroom doorway, reluctant to turn away, when a knock broke the silence.
All the contentment drained from Mireille’s face, their little bubble of false peace burst.
She darted fearful eyes toward him as she opened the door, and he sauntered over, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.
That silver-haired servant stood in the hallway, breakfast tray in hand. There was no hint of recognition or wariness in the man’s eyes, as if yesterday’s episode wasn’t even a distant memory.
