Page 51 of Shielded Heart

He waved toward a door across from the foot of the bed. “There’s a bathroom in there. Feel free to bathe. I’ve set clean clothes on the counter for you. They should fit.” Arcanthus walked toward another door, this one to the left of the bed, with his tail swaying behind him. He slowed to glance at her over his shoulder, eyes gleaming ravenously. “Let me know if you requireanything.”

Samantha watched in stunned silence as he exited the room and the door slid closed behind him.

The breath whooshed out of her in a bewildered laugh, and she covered her face with her hands.

“What just happened?” she asked.

Her cheeks were warm, her lips kiss-swollen, her skin overly sensitive. Her body felt bereft.

She was…horny.

Her sex pulsed so badly that she was tempted to slip her hand between her thighs and touch herself. She hadn’t experiencedthatimpulse in years—not since she was a teenager exploring her body as she imagined her crush from school. Whatever sexual fantasies she’d once held had burned to ash while she was with James. He’d been her first, her only, and God had ithurt. He’d never been gentle with Sam, even before he started deliberately hurting her.

He’d never caressed her, had barely kissed her, and she couldn’t recall a single time when he’d spoken in such a manner that his words alone were enough to arouse her. What she’d just experienced with Arcanthus…it wasnew, and it left her all kinds of confused.

Samantha lifted her hands from her face and paused; along with her sleeves, they were coated in dust. She sat up. The sudden change in position blasted her with a wave of dizziness. Squeezing her eyes shut and pressing a hand to her forehead, she rode out the wave, forcing herself to breathe slowly until it passed. Once her head stopped spinning, she opened her eyes and looked down at herself.

She was amess.

Understatement of the year.

Her clothes were filthy, covered in pale dust and sporting a few new tears and scorch marks. She couldn’t help but wonder what her face looked like.

“Well, it’s no wonder why he left,” Samantha muttered, pinching the fabric of her shirt and stretching it out to stare at it in disgust.

Scooting to the edge of the bed, she swung her feet to the floor and rose slowly. There was no dizziness, no pain, not even any discomfort. The aches she’d collected over the last few days were just…gone.

She made her way to the door across from the foot of the bed and pressed the button. The door opened silently. Samantha’s eyes widened, and her jaw fell as she beheld the chamber beyond.

The bathroom walls and ceiling were crafted of a black, marble-like material, through which ran glowing blue lines—but instead of tracing endless paths across the surfaces, these lines wavered and undulated to cast an ambient light on the walls not unlike sunlight reflecting off water.

A large rectangular pool lay in the center of the room, illuminated from within by soft blue light. The steps leading into it were positioned on the side closest to the bathroom entrance. Samantha guessed the rectangular panel suspended above the far end of the pool was the shower. The black, bowl-shaped thing in the corner was likely the toilet, and nearby it stood a wide counter with a deep, built-in sink. A tall mirror ran the length of the counter.

Sam’s imagination produced an image of Arcanthus standing in front of that mirror, flexing and admiring himself, and she couldn’t hold in her laughter.

She stepped through the open doorway, and sparkling lights came to life on the ceiling. Samantha turned her face toward them; they were like a field of white and blue stars, twinkling above an ocean. It was beautiful.

A pile of folded clothing rested atop the counter—just like he’d said—with a hairbrush, toothbrush, and toothpaste beside it. Seeing those things, things she’d so often taken for granted, produced a grateful pang in her chest. She hadnothingat the moment, and this little gesture meant the world to her.

Her sedhi was arrogant, but he was also kind and considerate.

My sedhi.

Samantha clenched her fists at her sides and bit her lip. She could taste him on it.

Washe hers?

How long would his desire for her last? Was he only interested because she was part of a species considered rare and exotic here in Arthos? Would his fascination with her wither and fade?

Worthless. Weak.

She gritted her teeth and shook her head sharply.

No!

She wasn’t weak. Arcanthus had called herbrave. She hadn’t cowered, whimpered, or cried when he’d come to save her; she’d followed his orders, had taken the blaster, and…

I killed them.

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