Page 60 of King Elijah (The Zemiran Chronicles 2)

Twenty-Four

JANELLE HAD USEDthe washroom to take a long bath. After the hot water had become cool, Janelle climbed out and dried off her body. She looked around the room and realized that she had no clean clothes in her bag, so she wrapped the damp towel tightly around her chest. Janelle looked at her reflection in the mirror and grimaced.

Oh, Gods. How did I get here? she thought, cursing at herself.

Kieran had given her two jobs, both ‌straightforward: break into the palace to kill the king and find the pirates’ location to retrieve the Kroneon. It all seemed so simple at the time. She was more than proficient at accomplishing the tasks and escaping unnoticed. Annabelle would help her get inside through the tunnel after two weeks of memorizing every detail she gave her about the castle. Then Janelle would take care of the rest. She had the exact skill set for the mission. The last thing she had expected was to fail and be captured—taken alive no less! To then be dragged everywhere with Elijah . . . forced to speak with him, walk with him, and share the same air. It was insufferable. Janelle had thought her training contained irrefutable facts about his villainous nature. Now she wasn’t so sure. Still, sharing air was one thing; sharing a bed would be a step too far.

That’s it, she thought. I’m sleeping on the floor.

Janelle retrieved the extra blanket from the closet, placed it on the wooden floor at the end of the bed, and threw down one of the pillows. She quickly wrapped herself in the blanket, ensuring no skin was exposed, and laid down, resting her head. Elijah turned to watch her wiggle around like a fish until she found a comfortable position to sleep.

“You’re sleeping on the hard floor?” Elijah asked.

She kept her eyes closed, pretending to be too tired to speak.

“Janelle, get your ass on the bed,” he fumed. “You’re being ridiculous.”

She cleared her throat. “I’ve already laid next to you on this little adventure of ours. Once is enough for me.”

The floor creaked next to her, and she opened one eye, looking up to see him standing over her, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. He had bathed before her but remained undressed.

“I had no clean clothes either,” he said, but her mind didn’t comprehend the words. The sight before her took all her concentration.

If the Gods were to craft a statue, chiseling every plane and curve to perfection, it would look like Elijah. He was flawless. All muscle and sinew; strong abs covered in soft, lightly tanned skin. Elijah was the most beautiful man she had ever seen, even if she refused to admit it. He was nearly naked, moving with the loose, effortless movements of someone in perfect physical shape, and his skin was still slightly damp from the bath. Janelle licked her lips on instinct.

I can almost taste his skin, she thought, as his warm, masculine scent hit her nose.

Elijah radiated strength and confidence with every breath or twitch of a muscle, making her stomach flip. No matter how much she fought it physically, the feelings he inspired in her were nothing short of wanton.

Janelle let her eyes drop lower. She caught a glimpse of his slight erection, poorly concealed by the towel, and it took everything she had to look away and not choke on her own tongue. She shook her head, trying to banish the thoughts as she cursed herself for letting them in in the first place.

Fuck. I can’t look, she cursed at her reckless brain, shutting her eyes for a moment before opening them again, forcing herself to look at Elijah’s face instead.

“The bed is too small,” she said and cast an appraising look of disdain. Quite honestly, it was of perfectly adequate size for sleeping . . . as well as anything else she might consider whether she wanted to or not.

“It’s big enough.” Somehow, when a smirk spread across his lips, she didn’t think he was only talking about the bed, or maybe it was her mind taking it too far. Perhaps she was the only one thinking of something else . . . “Get up,” he ordered her. Janelle scrunched her face, bristling at the tone of command in his voice as he reached out his hand to her. She reluctantly wrapped her fingers in his but quickly released them to grab her towel tighter to herself. A quick readjustment was needed, or Elijah would see a lot more of her than she cared for.

The bed was a bit bigger than the one she slept in at the palace, but not by much. It would be nearly impossible to go an entire night without brushing against each other.

For a moment, as she stared at the bed, she remembered the feeling of that kiss. She hadn’t expected Elijah to barge through the door and grab her, taking possession with a kiss as if it were the only thing that mattered in the world to him. She would be a liar if she said she had hated it. Elijah’s lips were soft, his movements tender but passionate. The man had a mouth made to be kissed. Moves that made her tremble when she thought of them. He had sparked a feeling low in her belly that traveled down and settled between her legs—although she would die before she ever uttered those words and before she ever admitted it. She would never allow another kiss like that, never again. Cutting off her own lips would be extreme, but if she had to stop herself from wanting him, she would.

Probably.

Maybe.

Another thought pressed in on her mind.Would she still be willing to kill Elijah to gain her freedom? She still hated the man, loathed his smug behavior, and was trapped with him. But they’d been traveling together for long enough that it felt natural to have him stand next to her. Lying together was a whole other story, an untenable situation.

Of course, the tension and hatred in her eased when he wandered farther away than expected. But another feeling overshadowed it. Emptiness. It was as if he had taken a part of her with him and left her hollow where that part belonged. That hollowness infuriated her because she didn’t like having no control of her own body. And she resented him for it.

“Which side would you like?” he asked softly, still standing next to her. She blinked, and seconds passed. She hadn’t realized exactly how long she had been staring blankly at the bed, but it must’ve been a while because he was standing with his arms crossed, a smirk toying with the shape of his lips.

“Oh, um, right side,” she answered shakily. There was no real reason other than that it was closer to the door if something happened and she needed to bolt. A very real possibility.

Janelle slipped under the covers first, the sheets cool against her skin. She laid on her back for a second because a glimpse of him would satisfy whatever was going on inside her. That way, she could do it without being obvious. Then Elijah joined her, pulling his side of the sheets back. He moved slowly, as if he might spook her with any sudden movement. She rolled onto her side immediately, putting her back toward him, and curled protectively into herself. Janelle was lying on the edge of the mattress, but it was useless. She could still feel his presence. The only way she could have felt more of him was if she moved to lie on top of him.

The mattress dipped as he lowered himself onto it, and warmth radiated from his body against her back. Her skin tingled at the sensation. All she could do was screw her eyes shut and try to fall asleep. But her mind was restless. A pinch in her chest and a flutter in her stomach distracted her, no matter how much she tried to will them away. She was never, ever going to fall asleep with him next to her.

It was no surprise to Janelle that her body would betray her that way. Despite all her anger and frustrations, she had been powerfully attracted to him from the start. She felt the pull to him in her bones, in her stomach. So many flutters.

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