brushed it and felt the moisture cool on his skin.
“Good.” Then he slowly moved his finger downward, trailing over her throat, then lightly across the cloth around both nipples, and down farther to traverse her belly button and trace a circle around and around the edge of it while he watched her face. Only whisper-fine silk separated his fingertip from her bare flesh.
When he went to go lower, she grasped his wrist and said firmly. “No. Please.”
There was lust yet also determination in her gaze.
He took away his hand and pulled her clothes into place. “Time to meet the emperor-bey.” He’d let her have this extra day to think. To ache. She would be dying for release after that.
He’d always liked hunting, and Sofia was the most delicious prey he’d ever sought.
Chapter Six
Her blood was still knocking rapidly in her veins when she stepped out after Dankyo. One advantage of playing the slave was the view of his back. Big, broad, sexy. The way he’d looked at her in the car from inches away…after he’d kissed her. Her lips remembered how that had been. Dankyo of House Kevonis wanted her.
Little me—who’s never done anything more exciting than study too late at the university library . Half of her was ready to dissolve at his feet. The other half was appalled that she’d even think it. Bad, scandalous, maybe even promiscuous, were all labels that might fit.
This is not the path I planned . Father, and her brothers, Louis and Hector, would be disgusted. Her brothers liked to pretend the same outrage as her father. It was hard being the eldest girl, especially when all the men in the house thought you should be either making money being yet another shopkeeper, or married to someone solid.
Was Dankyo solid? Perhaps, on the outside, but even her pretending to be his slave would give her father a heart attack. Not that she cared what he thought anymore. Being told your father has washed his hands of you tended to do that. Galling, but she’d tucked it away, and it no longer hurt like it had once.
A stray thought popped into her head, and she almost smiled. Mother would wink and ask what Dankyo looked like naked.
“Come.” He motioned her forward.
The limousine had been drawn up beneath a broad roof big enough for a train station. Guards were everywhere in their antiquated but eye-catching chain mail and leather. Teamed with modern firearms, it made for a quaint look. Another group of people were ahead and being allowed through the double timber doors set into the wall of stone. A guard near them unslung his FREN rifle. She admired it. The gun would look good on the wall of her dorm room along with her Bedouin musket and sword.
Her subconscious poked out its nose and jolted her. The men, the maintenance men—the miniscule bulges under the overalls, the glimpse of shapes within the bags—the outlines came together in her mind like a jigsaw floating into being. Weapons . Her attention snapped back to Dankyo.
“Wait. Wait!”
He half turned. “What? You look pale.”
“Please believe this.” She talked staring at the ground, hoping no one thought she was being forward for a slave. “I have this…this thing I do. I solve puzzles. I see things others don’t, and they fit together in my head.”
He grunted. “Yes, I gathered this. Go on.”
“The maintenance men, at the airship, they were carrying weapons. Lots and lots.” When he looked skeptical, she bit her lip but then hurried on. “Please. I know this. Do you think it means something bad?”
She watched him from beneath her brow.
Nothing of Dankyo moved as he studied her for a long while. “Yes. If true, then yes. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
“I didn’t know .” Helpless to explain further, she pleaded with her eyes.
“Okay.”
He swiveled on his heel, went to the nearest guard, and had a terse conversation. The guard hurried away, and Dankyo returned to her. He shielded her with his body and spoke
“Good.” Then he slowly moved his finger downward, trailing over her throat, then lightly across the cloth around both nipples, and down farther to traverse her belly button and trace a circle around and around the edge of it while he watched her face. Only whisper-fine silk separated his fingertip from her bare flesh.
When he went to go lower, she grasped his wrist and said firmly. “No. Please.”
There was lust yet also determination in her gaze.
He took away his hand and pulled her clothes into place. “Time to meet the emperor-bey.” He’d let her have this extra day to think. To ache. She would be dying for release after that.
He’d always liked hunting, and Sofia was the most delicious prey he’d ever sought.
Chapter Six
Her blood was still knocking rapidly in her veins when she stepped out after Dankyo. One advantage of playing the slave was the view of his back. Big, broad, sexy. The way he’d looked at her in the car from inches away…after he’d kissed her. Her lips remembered how that had been. Dankyo of House Kevonis wanted her.
Little me—who’s never done anything more exciting than study too late at the university library . Half of her was ready to dissolve at his feet. The other half was appalled that she’d even think it. Bad, scandalous, maybe even promiscuous, were all labels that might fit.
This is not the path I planned . Father, and her brothers, Louis and Hector, would be disgusted. Her brothers liked to pretend the same outrage as her father. It was hard being the eldest girl, especially when all the men in the house thought you should be either making money being yet another shopkeeper, or married to someone solid.
Was Dankyo solid? Perhaps, on the outside, but even her pretending to be his slave would give her father a heart attack. Not that she cared what he thought anymore. Being told your father has washed his hands of you tended to do that. Galling, but she’d tucked it away, and it no longer hurt like it had once.
A stray thought popped into her head, and she almost smiled. Mother would wink and ask what Dankyo looked like naked.
“Come.” He motioned her forward.
The limousine had been drawn up beneath a broad roof big enough for a train station. Guards were everywhere in their antiquated but eye-catching chain mail and leather. Teamed with modern firearms, it made for a quaint look. Another group of people were ahead and being allowed through the double timber doors set into the wall of stone. A guard near them unslung his FREN rifle. She admired it. The gun would look good on the wall of her dorm room along with her Bedouin musket and sword.
Her subconscious poked out its nose and jolted her. The men, the maintenance men—the miniscule bulges under the overalls, the glimpse of shapes within the bags—the outlines came together in her mind like a jigsaw floating into being. Weapons . Her attention snapped back to Dankyo.
“Wait. Wait!”
He half turned. “What? You look pale.”
“Please believe this.” She talked staring at the ground, hoping no one thought she was being forward for a slave. “I have this…this thing I do. I solve puzzles. I see things others don’t, and they fit together in my head.”
He grunted. “Yes, I gathered this. Go on.”
“The maintenance men, at the airship, they were carrying weapons. Lots and lots.” When he looked skeptical, she bit her lip but then hurried on. “Please. I know this. Do you think it means something bad?”
She watched him from beneath her brow.
Nothing of Dankyo moved as he studied her for a long while. “Yes. If true, then yes. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
“I didn’t know .” Helpless to explain further, she pleaded with her eyes.
“Okay.”
He swiveled on his heel, went to the nearest guard, and had a terse conversation. The guard hurried away, and Dankyo returned to her. He shielded her with his body and spoke
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