38. Chapter 38
38
“ W ell,” I said, sitting back in my chair and rubbing my tired eyes, not an inch closer to understanding the prophetic dream featuring Javier. “That was a huge waste of time.”
Gavin and I had skimmed through all the books selected by the ghost in the High Queen’s study, and while much of what I read was interesting and useful in a general sense—I now knew there was no “guide” to interpreting prophetic dreams and that the seer’s gut instinct was the most important factor when attempting to decode a dream—none of it made the dream’s meaning any clearer to me.
“Not entirely,” Gavin said, pushing back his chair at the opposite end of the table and standing. He started around the table, heading for me. “We know you won’t find the answers you seek in any book, but rather you must look within yourself.” He stopped beside my chair and held a hand out to me. “Come. I have an idea.”
I looked up at him, moving only my eyes, uncertain of his intentions. With him, I was beginning to suspect there was always an ulterior motive, usually a naughty one.
“I wish only to help quiet your mind so you might better listen to your gut,” Gavin assured me.
Uncertain of what that meant, I placed my hand in his and scooted my chair backward before standing. Gavin curled his fingers around mine and stepped back, then turned, leading me toward the sofa arranged with two armchairs near the fireplace on the other side of the sitting room. I straightened my silk robe as best I could with one hand.
At Gavin’s direction, I sat on the sofa, then stretched out on my back on the cushions. He lifted my legs by my ankles and folded his body gracefully to sit at the far end of the couch, settling my feet on his lap.
“Close your eyes,” he said as he dragged his thumb along the arch of my foot.
I moaned, relaxing into the sofa and letting my eyelids drift shut. Gavin’s expert touch proved his fingers were skilled at drawing pleasure from other places on my body than from between my legs. “That feels so good .”
“Good,” he said, sounding smug.
I cracked an eyelid open to peer at him discreetly. His look of deep concentration caught me off guard, and a giggle shook my chest.
Gavin froze, his thumb pressed into my heel, and he watched me warily.
“I’m sorry,” I said, attempting to stifle my amusement. “You just looked so serious.”
Gavin narrowed his eyes. “Apparently, a more direct action is required to suppress your thinking mind,” he said, scooting closer to me until my knees crossed his lap. His hands glided up my calves, over my knees, and higher.
Guessing what he intended, I squeezed my thighs together. “I doubt that will help me understand the dream better.”
Gripping one knee, Gavin forced my legs open and wedged his elbow against my other knee to keep me from shutting them once more. My robe gaped, revealing my most intimate parts to him.
I instinctively clapped my hands over my groin.
Gavin tutted me. “How do you know this won’t help if you haven’t tried it?” he asked, his free hand settling on the uppermost portion of my inner thigh. He teased the sensitive flesh there, making my leg muscles quiver as his fingers drew ever closer to my own hands covering my sex.
My heart beat faster, my chest rising and falling with heavier breaths. “This isn’t quieting my mind,” I told him. If anything, it was drawing me more into my head, especially with my everything bared to him like this while he sat there fully clothed, not a drop of blood to fuel the mind-numbing lust I had quickly grown accustomed to. “Maybe if I had some blood—”
“No,” Gavin said, tracing the crease at the top of my inner thigh with a single fingertip. “Bloodlust will consume you. We need your head clear and your mind empty.”
Tempted as I was to let this continue, I sat up fully and shifted one hand to grab his wrist, stilling his teasing fingers and locking eyes with him. “There is no lust for me without bloodlust,” I told him. “Not around you. Not anymore.”
Gavin clenched and unclenched his jaw, and I could almost see the inner battle playing out in his silver eyes. Sighing, he released his hold on my knee and let me close my legs. He stretched one arm across the back of the sofa and rested the other hand on my shin. Suddenly, his eyes lit with an idea.
“What?” I asked. “What is it?”
He nudged my legs, and I shifted them off him, my feet landing on the floor. “Come,” he said, standing and again holding out a hand to me.
I placed my hand in his and let him pull me up to my feet once more.
“Three activities help me get out of my head enough for my subconscious mind to work through a tricky problem—walking, driving, and taking a shower,” he said, guiding me toward the door to his bedroom. “Driving away from the Sanctuary is out of the question, and walking the grounds in the middle of the night isn’t a good idea when you’re still unused to interacting with ghosts, but— ” We entered his bedroom and headed for the bathroom. “I have a perfectly good shower right here, and you’re welcome to use it for as long as you like.”
I eyed him, unsure of his intent. “Alone?”
Smirking, Gavin gently pushed me ahead of him through the bathroom door, then reached past me and grabbed the doorknob. “You’ll find an assortment of toiletries under the sink,” he said, nudging me further into the bathroom so he could pull the door shut. “Use whatever you like.” And then he closed the door, and I was alone.
After a moment of hesitation, I locked the door. He would have heard the clicking of the lock, of course, and nothing so puny would stop him if he really wanted to get through the door. But I wouldn’t be able to relax if I was constantly wondering if I would have company.
I peered around the bathroom, taking in the enormous shower and oversized tub on one side, the beautiful vanity of white wood and silver-veined white marble, and the high-tech toilet with built-in bidet tucked away in its own little pocket room off in the corner.
I opened the cabinet doors beneath the vanity sink and knelt to examine the offerings. A bevy of bottles were on display, all appearing luxurious and none displaying any branding I recognized. After sniffing everything, I picked the shampoo, conditioner, and body wash set that smelled the most relaxing, like lavender and vanilla, and selected a lavender-chamomile shower steamer.
As an afterthought, I plucked a sleek razor from a glass jar and carried my spoils to the shower. I had shaved the previous evening, but considering what I would face later this morning, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to go over my legs again. And while I was usually a shave once a week or less kind of gal, the last thing I wanted to be worried about during my first foursome was prickly legs.
I turned on the faucet and tossed the shower steamer onto the tiled shower floor, waiting for the water to heat and the blissful aroma of lavender to reach my nose. Finally, with a sigh that contained a thousand worries, I stepped into the shower.