Chapter 27
COMPANY
THAT NIGHT, FELíNE DRAGGED HERSELF into the adjacent washroom to the deep, wooden, copper-lined tub.
It had a simple design but was massive, occupying one entire wall of the modest room.
At the twist of a faucet, she had the tub practically overflowing with steaming water.
Drains had been inlaid into the planks of the floorboards near its base to catch any overspill, and the floor itself had been treated with a thick, clear coating that was slick under her bare feet.
Felíne lowered her aching body into the hot water with a hiss.
Everything hurt. Even now, the grimalkin’s wound throbbed with each beat of her heart.
As much as she typically enjoyed lingering in the tub, Felíne wanted sleep more.
Her body’s attempts to heal these past days, coupled with her and Kal’s morning conversation and the many emotions it evoked, left her utterly depleted.
She scrubbed herself with the hard bar of half-used soap that smelled like mint, olive, and something woodsy.
Afterward, Felíne wrapped herself in a clean towel and returned to the bedroom to find a neatly folded set of clothes on the edge of the mattress.
Felíne inspected the fabric. Men’s. Apparently, she’d worn all the women’s clothes Kal had provided, courtesy of Penn.
The pile of soiled ladies’ garments that she had stacked in the corner was gone.
Felíne slipped into the oversized tunic, wincing as her shoulder stretched. She struggled to get the trousers over her hips and eventually gave up, leaving them discarded at the foot of the bed.
She didn’t hesitate to slip under the thick coverlet and into a nest of down pillows. Sleep was immediate.
When she woke, Felíne took a moment to orient herself.
Darkness shrouded the room, creeping in through the window from the forest outside.
She had no idea what time it was or how long she’d been asleep.
Her heart beat loudly, and every soft breath may as well have been a scream for how quiet it was.
Her stomach growled. Felíne eased out from beneath her cushions and padded to the door and down the hallway.
She groped blindly for the kitchen but ended up in front of a window.
To her right was a door. Bolted. That meant the kitchen lay somewhere to her left.
She turned, reaching out a tentative arm to prevent herself from colliding with some lurking hazard.
Her hand touched something soft and hard at the same time. The shadow in front of her moved.
Felíne reacted. She screamed and swung out. A warm hand closed around her wrist, and she wrenched it back, sending another burst of white hot pain through her shoulder, chest, and the left side of her neck.
“Will you quit?” barked a harsh, familiar voice.
She stilled.
A candle flared to life, illuminating the kitchen table and Kalevar’s brooding form.
He was shirtless, his hair tousled, and his eyes seemed to be cut from the surrounding darkness.
They roved over her critically, landing on a drop of blood that seeped into the fabric of her tunic.
Shit. The scabbed edge of her shoulder wound reopened.
“Are you trying to undo all of my hard work?”
“Are you trying to scare me to death?” she snapped back.
Kal released her wrist and reclined in the chair, one arm casually draped over the back.
The weak firelight played over the contours of his pectorals and the ridges of his abdomen as though eager to touch him.
If only she were made of candlelight. “If I wanted you dead, I’d have let the grim finish what it started. ”
She ignored his biting remark. “What time is it?”
“Nearly three in the morning.”
Still hours from daybreak. “Don’t you ever sleep?”
Kal tilted his head as he regarded her. “Why? Were you planning an attack?”
“No.”
“Maybe you hoped to make another foolhardy escape. Let me help you.” He jerked his chin behind her. “There’s the door.”
“I’m not trying to escape,” she retorted.
“No?” Those all-seeing obsidian orbs slid over her, snagging near her bare feet. “With all the forethought you typically put into your escapes, I’d say you look dressed for a long trek through the woods.”
Felíne’s toes curled into the rug. Ass. She scowled and crossed her arms, the hem of her tunic sliding up along the exposed skin of her thighs.
Kal’s focus intensified. That wasn’t just the glimmer of the candle; she saw an unmistakable flash of gold. “You’re not wearing pants,” he said. “I gave you pants.”
“They, ah, they didn’t fit.”
Kal went utterly still. Her thighs clamped together. A muscle feathered in his jaw. “Perhaps I was wrong,” he mused, voice rough. “Maybe you are a spy. A temptress sent to seduce me for information.”
Little alarm bells began tolling somewhere deep in Felíne’s sleep-addled psyche.
Kalevar leaned forward, resting his forearms on his muscled quads.
The position brought his head closer to Felíne’s waist. He inhaled.
“Maybe you planned the whole thing. Put yourself in danger to garner my sympathies. Gambled on my interference. Bathed yourself with my soap, clothed yourself in my shirt, and slept half-naked in my bed.” He lifted his face, eyes trailing up her body.
“All to entice me into lowering my guard.”
Something wanton stirred in Felíne’s blood, overriding her common sense. This man, this moment, was trouble. She had a decidedly difficult time controlling whatever wild impulse overcame her when left alone with Kalevar Kaine. And it felt good.
Circumstance dictated they were enemies. He claimed not to hate her, but he most certainly didn’t trust her either. Blessed divine, she didn’t trust her.
Against all wit and reason, Felíne stepped closer to Kal. He straightened, widening his knees, leaning back to appraise her. His gaze scorched everywhere it landed. “Is it working?” she asked.
His eyes glittered, delicate golden filaments threading through his irises’ sable strands. “That depends. How much are you willing to sacrifice for the sake of your mission?”
She leaned closer. “How much is required to get what I want?”
“And what do you want?”
Felíne reached out and trailed a finger along the edge of Kal’s jaw, tracing the rasping stubble.
What to ask for? She didn’t know if it was the lack of sleep or the enchantment of the early hour, but the way Kal was looking at her made her feel sensual and powerful.
Like she could ask anything of him, and he would bend the very fabric of creation to deliver it.
“I want you to say my name.”
Time stopped. It was the wrong thing to say.
The heat in Kal’s gaze guttered, a flame going out. The gilded treasures that had risen to the surface of his dark sea sank once more into their depths, tragically beyond her reach. She wanted to grasp at them and pull them back.
No, she thought. Stay with me.
Somewhere in the forest, a wolf howled.
Kal’s attention shifted, and he pushed to his feet, stepping around her to open the front door. A breeze stirred the strands of Felíne’s still-damp hair, raising gooseflesh along her exposed limbs. The air had been heady and warm just moments before. Now it chilled her bones.
She followed him to the threshold, wrapping her arms around herself. “What is it?” she asked softly.
Kal reached for the shirt he’d left draped over the back of a chair and slipped it over his head. He stepped out onto the porch, cloaking himself with the night’s colors. “We have company,” came his quiet reply. Then he disappeared entirely.