Page 18 of Empress of Savages

“It was great. It was all really nice. Thank you.” I almost reach out to touch his hand, but just in time, I guess that he’s not casual about being touchy feely. I tell him, “I would love some more coffee, please.”

He moves to pick up the tray.

“I’ll come with you. Help you make it.”

“I think you’ve had enough excitement for now. You wait here and I’ll get it for you.”

When he’s at the door, I tell him, “Now that I’m awake and I’m not likely to go into cardiac arrest, you probably don’t need to be watching over me twenty-four seven.”

He gives me another of his long looks. “Really. I’d say the reverse. Now you’re back, live and kicking, we need a minimumof two eyeballs on you at all times. We are going to be watching you like hawks.”

As soon as the door shuts behind him, I get up to go back to the windows. I want to see how hard or easy they might be to open and whatever else I can learn.

I’m halfway across the room when the door opens again. My warrior steps in, then leans back on the door to close it.

I almost stumble and fall, dashing across the rom to him. I put my arms around him and bury my head in his chest. He’s big and he’s like hot, living rock. The ridges of his chest are so hard I nuzzle my nose into his heat.

I have heat of my own rising as my body remembers his scents and traces. And that chuckle. I melt hearing that.

He says, “You think I might be the easy touch?”

Bastard! These men are too smart. Clearly, I need to up my game by a long way. The trouble is, I don’t know how much more I’ve got in the tank.

“No,” I purr, “Don’t be like that. We have a connection. Please, don’t act like it’s not true, I know that you feel it, just as much as I do.”

“This is all very sexy and thoroughly nice but there’s something you seem to be forgetting.”

I look up into his eyes and give him a little bit of a pout.

His chuckle makes my stomach flutter as he says, “I know you. I know you really well.”

I frown.

He lets out a trace of a smile as his head turns. “Your coquettish siren routine is a real turn-on. You suit the part and it suits you. It’s really a killer.”

My frown deepens.

He laughs. “But it’s not you.”

“Maybe I’ve changed.” I tell him, “Perhaps all the shock and trauma brought out my real nature.”

He laughs. “And this is it? This is your real, inner self?”

He moves to one of the cupboards and takes out a bottle. The dark amber glow makes me want to feel the whiskey burn in my throat. Another gear clicks inside me and makes me stop.

He pulls out two tumblers and holds them up toward me.

Quickly I shake my head. “Not for me. Thanks.”

He does a double take. “It’s an Elijah Craig. Single barrel. You sure?”

I frown again. And shake my head.

He says, “You must still be sick. Any other time you’d have snatched the bottle straight out of my hand.”

Everything I learn bout the person that I am, or was, seems to make the picture more unsettling.

“What did the other one mean,” I don’t want to saythe Emperor, “about not having much time?”

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