Page 37 of A Hunter for Luna

I leaned against the wall near the swerve grate, quietly breathing in and out as I tried to calm my racing heart. I did it. Now it remained to see if Benedetto made it out.

The thud of rapid steps sent a jolt of fear through me, and I braced myself, ready to fight or bolt. A familiar figure emergedfrom the shadows, breathing hard but grinning from ear to ear as he regarded me.

"You really are smarter than your typical noble maiden," Benedetto said, his tone equal parts teasing and admiring.

"Since I’m not a maiden, I’m not sure where you’re going with that," I replied, but there was no real heat behind the words.

He sauntered closer, his gaze raking over me in a way that made my skin tingle. "We lost them, didn't we?"

My pulse quickened for an entirely different reason. Damn him and my body for wanting him for no reason I could discern. I’d had him, and all it did was hurt. Why was I drawn to him?

“Yes. Thanks to quick thinking and my knowledge of the sewers."

The corners of Benedetto's eyes crinkled with a real smile. "We make a pretty good team, vixen. Admit it."

I huffed a laugh, shaking my head. "You’re the one who needs to admit it, husband."

Benedetto and Ididmake a good team. A dangerous, reckless, infuriatingly attractive team.

The thought sent a shiver down my spine, equal parts exhilaration and trepidation.Absent gods, what am I getting myself into?

We both looked down at ourselves then, taking in the clothing splattered with blood and mud as well as the pungent earthy odor of the sewers clinging to our skin and hair. Benedetto wrinkled his nose, his expression a mix of disgust and amusement.

"I think getting clean should be first on the evening’s list of activities," he gestured to our disheveled state.

"I’m heading for the bathhouse. Feel free to use the men’s side.”

“Ah, yes, she still pays for it to be fired day and night, does she? What a pleasant thought, you, me, naked…” His tone was teasing, but there was an undercurrent of heat that made my cheeks warm.

“Clean," I responded drily, trying to ignore the way my heart stuttered at the images his words conjured. Remembering the last time I’d seen him naked.

And it hurt, remember? Stop fantasizing and deal with reality, woman.

The heavy wooden door creaked as I pushed it open, releasing a gust of warm, herb-scented air that enveloped me like a perfumed embrace. Tendrils of steam curled up from the bathwater, obscuring the distant edges of the room and muffling the soft splashes of the other women as they moved languidly through the mineral-rich pool.

I stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind me with a dull thud. The bathhouse was divided in two by a towering stone wall, the women's sanctuary on one side, the men's on the other. In the hushed quiet, broken only by the occasional drip of water or sigh of contentment, I could almost forget the world outside, with its tangled web of politics and treachery.

Shedding my sweat-stained clothes, I eased myself into the bath, inhaling sharply as the heated water lapped at my skin. I waded out until I was submerged to my chin, the warmth seeping into my bones and unwinding the knots of tension that had taken root between my shoulders. The earthy scent of lavendermingled with the brighter notes of eucalyptus, the fragrant steam cleansing my lungs with every breath.

As I floated there, suspended in that pocket of tranquility, my mind drifted unbidden to the trials ahead. The path I had chosen was a treacherous one, littered with obstacles and enemies at every turn. But in that moment, enveloped by the soothing waters, I could almost convince myself that everything would work out in the end. Almost.

Too soon, the water began to cool, and I forced myself to climb out, rivulets streaming down my pruned skin. I reached for one of the thin silk robes folded nearby, the fabric whispering against my damp flesh as I tied it loosely at the waist. Drawing in a steadying breath, I squared my shoulders and made my way toward the doorway that led to the men's side of the bathhouse.

I wasn't entirely sure what I expected to find on the other side of that door. Part of me, the part that had been raised on tales of chivalry and courtly love, thought that I should want Benedetto to sweep me off my feet, to offer me pretty words and gentle caresses. But another part, the part that had learned the hard way that life was rarely so kind, knew better than to expect anything more than a quick tumble and a few coins tossed my way for my trouble.

I stepped through the doorway, the steam parting before me like a curtain drawn back to reveal the stage. And there he was, Benedetto, standing waist-deep in the water with his back to me. Even without seeing his face, I recognized the proud set of his shoulders, the arrogant tilt of his head. He was a man used to getting what he wanted, when he wanted it.

At the sound of my footsteps, he turned, a smirk already curling the edges of his mouth. "Well, well," he drawled, his eyes rakingover me in a way that made my skin prickle with an odd mix of indignation and something darker, more primal. "Couldn't resist the temptation to sneak a peek, could you?"

I lifted my chin, meeting his gaze without flinching. "Don't flatter yourself," I retorted, my voice steadier than I felt. "I merely wanted to ensure you hadn't drowned in the weight of your own ego."

He barked a laugh at that, though there was little humor in the sound. Wading closer, he cocked his head to the side, studying me with an intensity that made my breath catch in my throat. "Is that so?" he murmured, the water rippling around his thighs as he moved. "Or perhaps you're just desperate for a chance to get a child in your belly. Afraid you're running out of time?"

Fury sparked through me at his words, bright and hot. Deliberately, I leaned back against the wall, my fingers going to the knot that held my robe closed. With a deft twist, I let the silk fall open, baring my skin to his hungry gaze.

"Well," I purred, a mocking smile playing about my lips, "I suppose I can spare a minute or two. Seeing as you're known for being more of a sprint than a marathon."

He sputtered at that, his eyes widening before narrowing into slits. In two strides he was on me, his hands gripping my waist almost hard enough to bruise as he hauled me up against the solid plane of his chest.

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