Chapter 7 #2
But she’d spent five days learning that analysis and caution could only get you so far. Sometimes you had to act on instinct. Sometimes you had to trust the data your body was giving you even when your brain screamed that it didn’t make sense.
For one frozen heartbeat, he remained completely still, a cold, unyielding statue.
Then something broke.
His hand came up to cup the back of her head, his fingers threading through her hair. His other arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her against the hard strength of his body with enough force to make her gasp.
And he kissed her back.
Not gently, not tentatively, but hard and demanding and desperate, as if he’d been holding back for days and had finally run out of restraint.
Her analytical mind—the part that never stopped observing, categorizing, questioning—simply shut off.
There was only sensation. The press of his mouth against hers and the hardness of his tusks against her cheeks.
The warmth of his hands, one in her hair and one at her waist, holding her like she was precious and breakable and entirely his.
The taste of him, foreign and familiar all at once as his tongue swept against hers, a claiming that made her knees weak and her blood heat.
She made a sound, small and surprised and wanting, and felt him respond with a growl that vibrated through her chest. Her hands found his shoulders and slid up to his neck. Her finger traced the edge of his ear and he shuddered, pulling her impossibly closer.
Yes. The thought was barely coherent. This. More of this.
She’d been kissed before—a few awkward teenage experiments, a couple of competent enough encounters that still hadn’t made her understand what all the fuss was about—but she’d never been kissed like this.
As if it wasn’t about pleasure or connection but about something deeper, more primal.
As if he was trying to mark her, brand himself on her soul.
Then he pulled away, and she stumbled, her balance compromised by the sudden loss of his support. She blinked up at him, her vision slightly unfocused without her glasses in quite the right position.
His eyes had turned solid black but his expression was stricken, as if she’d just done something catastrophic.
“Khorrek—”
“No.”
The word was harsh. Final.
He took another step back and the physical distance between them felt like a chasm.
“This cannot happen,” he said. “Cannot. Do you understand?”
“But—”
“No.”
He turned and opened the door, but then he paused with his hand on the frame, his back to her. For a moment she thought he might say something else. Might turn around. Might—
The door closed behind him, and a lock clicked into place.
She stood in the center of the huge, luxurious room, her heart pounding, her lips still tingling, and her body humming with sensation and confusion and a frustration that had nothing to do with being locked in.
What the hell just happened?
Her analytical brain tried to make sense of the past five minutes.
He had kissed her back. Not reluctantly.
He’d kissed her like he wanted her, kissed her with a hunger that had stolen her breath and her thoughts in equal measure.
And she might not have a lot of experience but the massive ridge of his erection had made it clear that she wasn’t the only one aroused by the kiss.
And then he’d locked her in the room and left.
She wanted to scream, or break something, or track him down and demand an explanation, although given the locked door, that option seemed unlikely.
Instead, she took a deep breath, and then another, and forced herself to think past the arousal and confusion churning through her system.
Focus on practical matters.
She was in a locked room in a foreign castle in a different world, waiting to meet a king who wanted her for unknown reasons. Getting upset about a kiss—however mind-melting that kiss had been—wasn’t going to help her situation.
She needed to observe, analyze, and adapt. That mantra that had gotten her through countless difficult digs and hostile academic environments. She could apply it here too.
She adjusted her glasses, and smoothed down the oversized tunic that had ridden up during… during. Then she forced herself to take another look at her surroundings.
The main room held more than she’d initially noticed. A writing desk stood by one window, complete with paper and what looked like ink. Bookshelves lined the wall next to it, although they were currently empty. It almost reminded her of her first office, absent the lack of modern technology.
She walked into the bedroom. The enormous bed dominated the space, but there were other furnishings—a cushioned bench at the foot of the bed and a wardrobe carved with intricate designs. A mirror—actual silver-backed glass, expensive even in her world—was mounted on one wall.
There was also a door she hadn’t noticed before. She doubted it led to an escape route, but her pulse raced as she pushed it open.
A bathing room rather than a corridor, but a huge bathing room with an enormous tub beneath high stained glass windows. Silver-clad pipes suggested running water, and the towels draped across them even promised hot water.
Hot running water, in what appeared to be a medieval-level civilization, which meant either magic or extremely advanced engineering. Both possibilities were fascinating, but both were currently irrelevant.
What mattered was that she could bathe, actually bathe, for the first time since arriving in this world.
She returned to the bedroom and opened the wardrobe to reveal clothing—clothing designed for someone her size, rather than Khorrek’s cast-off tunic.
They were mostly dresses made out of soft fabrics in muted color, but they were undoubtedly expensive. She even found medieval style undergarments, along with stockings and slippers. It was everything she needed to look as if she belonged in this luxurious cage.
She pulled out the least complicated option, a simple blue shift, and carried it back to the bathing room. After some experimentation, she managed to get water flowing into the tub—blessedly hot water. Definitely magic.
She stripped off the tunic that smelled of horse and travel and Khorrek.
She stood naked in the steam rising from the tub and let herself feel, just for a moment, the full weight of her situation.
She was trapped in a castle in another world.
She’d been summoned by a king for unknown purposes and separated from the one person who’d made her feel safe.
She was still reeling from a kiss that had rearranged something fundamental in her understanding of desire.
And she had absolutely no idea what came next.
She stepped into the hot water and sank down until it covered her shoulders. The heat slowly seeped into muscles that had been protesting five days of hard riding.
One thing at a time. A bath first, and then clothing. And then… then I figure out the rest.
She found soap that smelled of lavender and something citrus.
She worked it through her hair, scrubbing away dirt and grime, before attacking the rest of her body.
But even as she washed, her mind kept returning to the kiss.
To the way he had responded to her, and to the desperation in his grip.
To the taste of him and the way he’d shuddered when she’d touched his ear.
To the look on his face when he’d pulled away—like he’d done something unforgivable.
Why?
The question had no answer, not yet. But she was good at finding answers to impossible questions. It was literally what she did for a living—taking fragments of information and reconstructing entire civilizations.
She could figure this out too. She would figure out what Lasseran wanted, and figure out what that kiss had meant and why Khorrek had fled from it.
She just needed time. And information. And possibly a miracle.
She dunked her head under the water, washing away the last of the soap. When she surfaced, she felt more human than she had in days.
All righty then. She climbed out of the tub, and used one of the impossibly soft towels to dry off. Whatever happened next, she’d face it clean, dressed, and ready to ask all the questions that needed asking. Including the most important question—will I see him again?