Page 95 of Rogue Elves of Ardani

“I’ve spent the past three days sitting around the bar,” she went on, as if he hadn’t spoken. “There’s so little to do that I ended up helping Nero and the kitchen staff with cooking and cleaning.”

“How awful.” It was difficult to imagine her doing either of those things. But then, he’d seen her cleaning and doing chores as at Patros’s house, in her memories. She’d done those things at some point.

“I even tried to talk to some of the other night elves. They mostly don’t speak Ardanian. And they don’t seem to want to talk to me, anyway.”

“I can’t imagine why.”

“I don’t know why you’re being sarcastic. I’m an exotic beauty, full of mysteries and secrets to be discovered. Who wouldn’t want to talk to me?”

“Indeed. And so modest.”

“Modestis not something I have ever claimed to be.” She tapped her fingers against his knee. “What I’m getting at is that I’d very much appreciate it if you could find the motivation to get out of this bed sooner rather than later, before I die of boredom.”

“No one’s making you stay.”

“You’re moping,” she said, inching her fingers up his leg toward his hip.

“Moping?” He glared at her. “I’m not some petulant child, Crow.”

“It’s been three days. It’s time to go somewhere else now. Or at least go downstairs. Talk to your friends. They’ve been asking about you.”

“They are not my friends.”

Her hand clenched around his thigh. “Why do you feel the need to be so difficult?”

“Leave me and you won’t have to deal with me being difficult anymore.”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“No. Goddess knows I’ve tried.”

She narrowed her eyes. “If I walked out of here right now and left you alone,” she said, “if you never saw me again—that would make you happy?”

There was a hint of real threat in her voice that made him hesitate to answer.

Her hand moved up to play at the waist of his pants. One finger hooked under the fabric—the smallest tease, carefully calculated. Vaara was beginning to realize that she rarely did anything that wasn’t calculated. That tiny motion sent a wave of heat through him.

He would be lying if he said there had been no tension built up over the past few days. They had been lying beside each other in bed each evening. Each night he’d grown more painfully aware of the heat and weight of her body beside him.

And now, she was watching him as she idly ran that single small finger back and forth beneath the cloth. She didn’t smile. She didn’t say anything clever. And that small, nearly chaste touch was sending lightning bolts over his skin.

He wanted to move away, to tell her to stop—he swore he did—but he said nothing.

So, in a move more bold than any she’d made since their night at the hotel, she climbed onto the bed and straddled his legs.

He was vividly reminded of a few dreams he’d had. More than a few, honestly. He took a moment to look around and make absolutely sure that he was really awake this time.

His hands, as if of their own accord, moved to her firm thighs, squeezing gently through soft fabric, but his mouth had its own agenda. “Now you’ll order me to sleep with you?” it sneered. “Is that part of my duties as well?”

Crow’s hands faltered at his waist. Her fingers were on his skin, her mind brushing against his. He could feel it creeping into his thoughts, spying unobtrusively. Observing. Considering.

Just say yes, he thought quietly.Command me.

Because then he would feel the pull of the binding compelling him. And then it wouldn’t be his own weakness pushing him to submit to the enemy. It wouldn’t be his fault. He’d simply have no choice in the matter.

Her eyebrows twitched. A flicker of defiance passed across her eyes. She pulled back a little, clearly offended.

“You’re free to stop any time you like,” she said coolly, to his great annoyance. “Tell me to go, if you wish.”

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