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“Shelives wherever she likes,” Gabriel tells me, petting the top of her head.
That doesn’t bode well for me. “Does she also eat whoever she wants?”
“You don’t need to worry. She has a highly refined palate.”
I let out a laugh, and he smiles in return. But then his face hardens, and he asks again, “Do you understand why you’re here?”
I do. I am aware that this is the most powerful man in the stronghold, that he loathes the family I am mating into, and that he has leave to do whatever he wants with me. The lynx may not be what I should be worrying about at the moment.
Why not both?asks a wise voice.
Why, indeed.
But hysterics don’t suit me. I’m a healer, trained to remain calm under pressure. If something terrible is to happen to me, working myself into a frenzy won’t help me avoid it. “I am here because you claimed the Right of the First Night. As for the reason for that…I assume it has to do with whatever pissing contest you’re currently trying to win against Lord Larsen.” I smooth the folds of my dress but keep my eyes locked with his. “It seems much more likely than the alternative, which would be you seeing me across a crowded room, becoming lovestruck, and deciding that you absolutely had to— What are you?—”
He moves fast. In a blink he’s towering in front of me, and before I can stop him, strong fingers grip my chin and angle my face toward the light. His jaw shifts back and forth.
“Was it Lennart?”
“What?”
“Was itLennart?”
He doesn’t seem like the kind of man who enjoys repeating his questions, but I have no idea what he’s asking. “What do you mean?”
“The bruise under your eye. Who hit you?”
“Oh.” I let out a breathy laugh, remembering that I washed my face before coming here. “No, no. I was helping one of the engineers repair a porthole in the north wing, and… No. Lennart wouldn’t.”
“Ah.” He doesn’t let go of me, but his grip softens. “You’re a healer.”
“I am. And Lennart is, too. He vowed to do no harm, just like me.”
Gabriel takes a step back. Begrudgingly, maybe. “He is considerably less skilled than you, I’m told.”
“Yeah, well…” I despise false modesty. “Maybe he’ll get there.”
We fall into a still sort of silence, regarding each other, the dramatic difference in our heights doubled by the fact that I’m sitting on the bed and he isn’t. Ishouldbe quaking in fear. Rationally, Iamworried. But there’s something about this—this Alpha, this situation, this room, the thick scent that envelops me—that doesn’t quite send my systems into panic.
IknowI should be scared, but I don’tfeelit.
That must be why I hear myself asking, “Would you like me to get naked?”
He stares, quiet. Unblinking. Much like his lynx.
“I ask because this dress was very expensive, and I have lofty plans of selling it to replace some of the healers’ equipment. I’d rather you not tear it. I’m happy to disrobe for you. If I’d known that this situation would arise, I would have insisted on something less delicate.” I shrug. “In my defense, this is very out of character for you.”
His lips twitch. “And what doyouknow of my character?”
“A bit. You hate Lord Larsen, and probably the other noble houses, too—and who can blame you? You usually procure your bed partners in less official ways. You don’t appear to be sexually interested in me, not in the slightest, which tells me that all this is to provoke. In my opinion, it will work. Oh, and despite having become general, you still enjoy sleeping on the floor.” His eyes narrow, and I glance at the pallet next to the bed. Just a handful of blankets laid out on the hard ground. “It doesn’t take outstanding observational skills to tell that you prefer a rougher surface.”
“You have them, though.”
“What?”
“Outstanding observational skills.”
“Oh. Well, healing and paying attention do go hand in hand.” I lean back a little, palms flat against the mattress. “So, should I take off the dress?”
