Chapter 9
Lea blinked awake. Her bleary gaze slowly focused on the fabric of the bed linens bunched up near her head. Something was different: the weave too fine, the color too white.
Her gaze swept upward. Light bathed the blank wall nearest her, and the shafts of sunlight were coming from a different direction than they should have been.
A sense of danger prickled over her. She didn’t know where she was or how she’d gotten here. Her mind struggled to grasp onto the last thing she remembered—the uncomfortable banquet.
Then she remembered the unknown powder. Everything had become strange after that. Odd, hazy images filled her mind, and she had no idea what might have been a dream and what was reality.
A rustling noise sounded from elsewhere in the unfamiliar room. A shadow moved, and a moment later a man’s form loomed above her.
Instinct took over, and her foot flashed out, landing a powerful kick. She’d been aiming for his groin, but her heel sank into his stomach instead.
“Oof!” He crumpled to the floor.
She skittered backward across the bed, muscles tensing as she prepared to further defend herself. Was there anything nearby she could use as a weapon—
“Lea.” The hoarse word came from the spot where the man had fallen. “It’s—it’s me. Kallias.”
Kallias. A few memories returned: Kallias’s arm around her, bringing her somewhere. To his bedroom? What happened last night?
Cautiously, she crawled over to the edge of the bed and stared down at him. He was curled into a ball, clutching his stomach as he struggled to draw breath.
If she hadn’t been so confused, it would have been amusing. Most of the men she knew would hardly have batted an eye at the kick she’d doled out, but Kallias had been felled as easily as a stack of blocks toppled by a child.
“Why am I in your bed?” she demanded.
He heaved himself into a sitting position. “You were…unwell last night. You ate some dreamfish without knowing what it was. It wasn’t safe for you to return to the ludus.”
“What in the underworld is dreamfish?” Some of her tension receded as her body realized she wasn’t in immediate danger, but she didn’t let go of her wariness. She still didn’t know what had happened between her and Kallias last night.
“It’s a fish that can bring about intoxication and hallucinations when consumed,” he explained. “It was served in a powdered form last night.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Is that what they do for fun here?”
He shrugged. “Sometimes.”
She ran a hand through her hair. Someone—Kallias?—had removed it from its arrangement of sewn-in braids, and it fell loose around her shoulders. “So I ate that fish powder, and your first thought was to get me into your bed?” He didn’t seem like the type of man who would do such a thing.
“No!” Indignation sharpened his voice. “You could barely walk. You needed to sleep it off.” He thrust a hand toward the middle of the small room. “I slept on the floor, as you can see.”
Indeed, a pillow and a pile of blankets rested on the floor at the foot of the bed. She surveyed them for a moment, then took stock of her own body. If anything had happened between her and Kallias, surely traces of sensation would linger the next day. But she felt nothing.
“I promise you, nothing untoward happened.” Kallias braced his hands on the bed and rose to his feet, then smoothed out his tunic. “Despite your best efforts,” he muttered under his breath.
“Excuse me?”
He shot her a dark glance. “Forgive me, I shouldn’t have said anything. It wasn’t your fault.”
“What wasn’t my fault?” A touch of anxiety spiraled through her. She didn’t like this feeling—not being able to remember, having to rely on someone else to tell her what happened. To trust he was telling her the truth.
“You kissed me,” he confessed. “You—you wanted to do more, but I put a stop to it. Barely.”
Heat flooded her. She grabbed the pillow and buried her face in it as if by blocking out her sight, she could block out everything that was happening. “I’m sorry,” she muttered into the pillow. “That must have been very unpleasant for you.”
He gave a low chuckle. The bed shifted, and she realized he’d seated himself on the edge. “I’m not sure unpleasant is the word I’d use.”
She moved the pillow down, just enough so she could see him. He was gazing at her with peculiar intensity, but he glanced away when she met his eyes.
Certain memories coalesced in her mind. Her lips tingled. Yes, they had kissed. And then…something had happened, and she’d ended up atop him on the bed. She remembered the warm pleasure of his hands on her, the feel of his lean body beneath hers.
An echo of last night’s desire sparked, like a hidden ember reignited. “Was it…good?” she asked, her mouth suddenly dry. “Did you like it?”
“Of course I fucking liked it,” he snapped, raking a hand through his dark hair.
“Oh,” she breathed. It seemed inconceivable that someone like him—an imperial physician, cultivated and refined—would ever enjoy kissing someone like her. She let the pillow drop from her face. “Why did you stop, if you liked it?”
“Because I knew it was wrong. I knew you’d wake and be horrified if you realized what had happened. You probably feel bad enough knowing you kissed me.”
“I don’t feel bad,” she said. “It’s just…I’ve only kissed one other man.” Willingly, at least. “I don’t know how to feel that I’ve doubled that and I don’t even remember.”
“Only one man?” He looked surprised at that. Maybe he expected her to be sleeping her way through the ludus.
She nodded. “How many have you kissed?”
“Men? Three.”
She raised an eyebrow. “And women?”
“Four, I think. Not counting you.”
“Seven people?” She grinned. “You’ve been busy.”
He rolled his eyes, though there was a distinct smugness to his air. “Seven people in my whole life is not busy.”
“But you remember them all.” She frowned, struggling to sort through the tangle of thoughts and emotions this conversation was raising. She’d been repressing her physical desires since Hector’s death, and apparently all it took was one sprinkle of powdered dreamfish to lay everything bare.
Kallias had every opportunity to take advantage of her last night. He’d admitted he wanted her. Instead, he’d taken care of her. Kept her safe, even from herself.
Perhaps it was a low standard to hold a man to, but Lea’s past left her under no illusion of how low a man would stoop when he perceived someone to be helpless.
“I don’t like not remembering something like that,” she admitted. “It makes me feel…like I don’t know myself.”
“It was nothing.” His voice was soft, and his gaze held hers for only a moment before shifting away. “Please don’t distress yourself by dwelling on it.”
Her gaze traced the line of his jaw, shadowed with stubble, then settled on his lips—those sculpted, expressive lips which had somehow touched hers last night.
She wanted to know what they felt like. She had been so determined to stifle the part of herself that wanted such things after Hector’s death, not wanting to let herself get close to anyone in that way again. But two years had passed, and her restraint was crumbling.
“Can I kiss you, Kallias?” The words sounded like they were coming from very far away, yet she could feel her mouth moving to form them. “Again?”
His gaze shot to meet hers, and he went very still. Then he gave a short, jerky nod.
Lea slid a hand up his neck, drew his face close, and pressed her lips to his.
He gave a small shudder the moment their lips touched. Then his hands found her face, fingertips skimming her jaw, as he returned the kiss. Heat licked over her skin, washing downward to settle in a throbbing cluster between her legs.
If this was how it had been last night, she was very peeved to have missed it.
His hand traced down her neck, tingles of pleasure sparking in its wake, then came to rest at the base of her throat.
Long fingers splayed over her skin, his touch firm but not constricting.
His other hand slid into her hair, fingers sifting through her loosened locks.
She liked the confidence she sensed behind his touch; she might not have expected it from him, as his outward manner was so reserved.
If he tightened his fingers just a little…
The thought of him pulling her hair made all her long-suppressed desire burst into flame, burning her mind clean of anything but need.
She scrambled into his lap, needing him closer, closer.
Her thighs clasped his hips, and she gave a pleased shiver as she felt the growing thrust of his arousal between them.
He tore his mouth from hers with a gasp as she moved against him. “Lea,” he groaned. “We shouldn’t…”
“Why?”
“Because—”
A noise from outside the bedroom made him go rigid—a nearby door opening and closing, footsteps on the stone floor. “Because my assistant is about to arrive,” Kallias hissed.