15. Athena
Athena
What an arrogant prick.
I watched him leave and sighed when the door slid shut behind him.
Then I turned my attention back to the food spread across the table in various bowls and dishes, suddenly ravenous.
It had been impossible to eat when he’d been there.
There was no doubt he was a huge guy, but his presence took up even more space than his body, and it had been hard to breathe or think when I could feel his gaze on me.
“And I’m supposed to live with him?” I muttered angrily to myself. “For however long it takes to reach another planet?”
My cheeks burned as I thought of the way he’d looked at me when he’d explained why we wouldn’t be dropped off tomorrow. He must have thought I was an absolute idiot, although a deep understanding of space travel had never seemed relevant before.
“Let’s see him memorize all the lines to ‘The Fisherman’s Muse.’”
I scooped a spoonful of a brown meaty stew into my mouth, the spices tingling on my tongue. Vandar food wasn’t so different from the food I’d grown up with, although I noticed a distinct lack of anything sugary on the table. Had I boarded a ship that didn’t believe in dessert?
I almost laughed out loud. Was I truly worried about the lack of sweets when I had to deal with sleeping on a pile of furs and pillows and bathing under a death-trap of a waterfall?
Stealing another glance at the sleeping area, I tried to recall the exact terms of the deal I’d made while holding a blade to his throat.
I’d been so sure I’d gotten the better end of it, but now that I was on his warbird, it was clear that I’d made a few too many assumptions.
One of those assumptions had been that he would be compelled to honor any agreement we’d made.
The warlord hadn’t broken his side of the deal as far as I could tell, but it was also abundantly clear that he could if he desired. Who would stop him?
I took another bite of stew and washed it down with the tart wine. The only armed people on board the warbird were his raiders, and they appeared to follow his orders without question. If he decided to keep me locked away in his retro barbarian room, there was basically nothing I could do about it.
After spending most of my life avoiding being controlled by anyone, but especially men, it was galling to think I might have run right into a trap.
But what choice did I have? Stay in Kashara and die?
Leave my friends behind to be slaughtered by the Zagrath?
That would have been worse. At least this way I was safe.
I let my gaze wander to the furs, and unbidden images of Lorken’s naked body sprawled on top of them flooded my brain. I groaned and pushed aside the traitorous thoughts. Was I safe?
After eating my fill of the savory stew and pillowy bread, I drained my wine. At least I was eating well, as I’m sure my friends were. I eyed the door again, wondering what Lettie and Vallia were doing and wishing I was sharing a room with them, even if it was smaller and less luxurious.
I stood and crossed to the door, my bare feet cold on the glossy floor.
I held my breath as I touched my hand to the door panel like I’d seen Lorken do, sure that it wouldn’t open.
Locking me inside his quarters seemed like something a warlord of the Vandar would do if he made you agree to be his war bride, so I was shocked when the steel door glided open.
I poked my head out, the hush of the room suddenly in stark contrast to the echoing booms and rattles of the warbird.
Then I realized that I was only wrapped in a towel and jerked my head back inside.
I remembered how to retrace my steps to Lettie and Vallia’s room—and even to the corridor containing the guys’ rooms—but there was no way I was tramping around the ship in nothing but a swath of fabric as a dress.
When I took a few steps back from the door, it shut again, sealing me in and blocking the cacophony of the warbird. I breathed a sigh, glad that I wasn’t as much of a prisoner as I’d thought and grateful for the quiet.
Lorken had been right about one thing. It had been a trying day, and I was suddenly overcome by exhaustion. A yawn creaked my jaw, and I didn’t fight it. Between the stress of the attack on Kashara, the jarring escape onto the Vandar ship, and almost drowning, my body ached all over.
I didn’t want to fall asleep, but I didn’t think I could stop myself.
Maybe if I let myself take a nap, I would wake up before Lorken returned.
The thought of him coming into his quarters and finding me asleep made my heart race.
I wanted to believe that he wouldn’t take advantage of me, but I’d known too many men.
Lettie had always called me cynical, but I’d learned the hard way that truly honorable men were not as thick on the ground as they wanted us to believe.
But then I remembered my wet clothes in the bathroom.
I needed those to dry unless I wanted to spend the rest of my time on the warbird wrapped in a towel.
I crossed to the arched doorway and hurried inside, grabbing my wet clothes and shooting a dark look at the water that had bested me.
Then I returned to the main room and draped them over the back of one of the dining chairs.
Struggling to suppress another yawn, I took slow steps toward the platform covered with furs and cushions, knowing that I had little choice.
My eyelids were leaden, and my thoughts were sluggish, as I lowered myself onto the far side and curled around one of the larger pillows.
The towel stayed snugly wrapped around me, although the fur was soft against my bare shoulders and exposed calves.
As my breath lengthened, I rubbed my legs against the fur, pleasantly surprised by how downy soft it was—just like Lorken had promised.
Lorken. I turned his name over in my mind as I drifted to sleep, hoping I dreamed about anyone but him.