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Her face flushing, she squeaked out a protest. “Well, that can’t be true.” The man obviously didn’t know what he was talking about.
The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Second, even if you weren’t, there is no way I would allow you to leave my protection and send you on your way, alone and defenseless.” His hand skated down her leg to grasp her heel, the calluses on his fingertips rough against her soft skin. With practiced efficiency, he wound bright green vet tape around her foot, securing medi-patches over her injury. “Don’t you know there are bandits and other ruffians about?”
“Tanl’n said our people took care of them.” The most recent batch, anyway. Riddled with caves and outcroppings, the Passage was a prime location for ambushes. Unfortunately, it was also the quickest way across the Willana Mountain Range. Smart travelers went heavily armed, their heads on a swivel and with as much extra protection as they could afford. “I can do it. It would be no more than a pleasant hike,” she said, trying to channel the confidence of her brash younger sister. But her head ached, her ankle throbbed, and the angry black clouds overhead were about to unleash their fury upon their corner of the world. A walk in this would suck, and that’s if she didn’t drown in a flash flood or get eaten by a manticore.
“No, it wouldn’t.” He finished wrapping her ankle and stood, a frown on his face. “You’re injured.” He looked up as another boom of thunder rolled through the canyon and the first fat drops of rain fell, filling the air with the scent of petrichor. “And the storm has arrived.”
A bodyguard lifted a hand to his ear. “Majesty,” he said. “They’re ready for you.”
Zarin nodded and held out a hand to Seraiah. “Come with me.”
She hesitated.
“Seraiah, come with me. Until the storm passes and the medi-patches do their job, it’s not a good idea to try any more escape attempts.”
She dug her fingers into the rough surface of the stone. He was right. She knew he was. She just didn’t want to admit it. Autumn storms could be deadly, especially in a deep canyon like this one. She lifted her chin, sparing a glare at the bodyguard who opened the rover’s door and stood ready.
A muscle ticked in Zarin’s jaw, and she wondered if he was going to throw her over his shoulder and carry her off like some barbarian. A flash of heat nipped along her spine at the idea.
But instead of forcing her into the waiting vehicle, he took a slow step closer with his hand outstretched, as if coaxing a wild creature into trusting him. “You will be safe in my company, Seraiah. I promise.”
That earned him a raised eyebrow.
“We have cake.”
She perked up, her stomach growling as it remembered it hadn’t eaten yet today.
But the bodyguard shook his head. Zarin sighed. “Okay, so no cake.” His eyes brightened. “What can I offer?”
“How about you answer my questions? Starting with why you decided to snatch me and ending with why you claim that I’m yours.” She didn’t budge from her spot. Cake might have gotten her moving, but too bad for him. Answers, however. Now, that was a tempting offer. That, plus a dry environment, out of the now-steady drizzle of chilly rain that plastered her hair to her head would be a decent enough offering.
The vertical pupils bisecting his eyes dilated as he locked in on her. “I would be pleased to accommodate any queries you might have for me.”
“Fine.” With a nod, she slid her hand into his and hopped off the rock, balancing against his steady arm to keep the weight off her ankle. “Then let’s go.”
He raised her hand to his lips, their warmth against her wet knuckles, raising goosebumps on her arm. “Your carriage awaits, my lady,” he said, his words whispering over her skin as the skies opened up, and heavy rain crashed down around them.
Oh, boy. Was she in trouble.
5
ZARIN
She’d gotten hurt on his watch. He should have known someone as smart as his mate would have a weapon hidden away on her person, no matter how delightfully small the scraps of clothing she wore were. He should have checked instead of getting distracted by her lickable copper skin. Because of his lack of attention, she was wounded.
It wasn’t going to happen again. He wouldn’t allow it. He’d protect her with ever fiber of his being, ply her with the most delicious baked goods — he’d seen the way her eyes lit up at the offering of cake — and the softest silks, and worship her until she promised to stay by his side forever.
But he stifled those urges. For now. She needed wooing, especially after her rather rough introduction to her future husband. She was his; she just didn’t realize it yet.
Shifting to face her, the soft leather creaking beneath him, he asked, “Where is the knife, Seraiah?”
She looked at him, her forest green eyes wide. “What knife?”
Gods, but she was beautiful, with her long, black hair tangled around her face, her white teeth nibbling on that plush bottom lip. “The one you tried to stab me with, darling.”
Her fingers flexed against her thighs. “If I’d tried to stab you, I wouldn’t have missed,” she said with a disdainful sniff. “And don’t call me darling.”
“You can keep the knife if it makes you feel safer,” he said with a lofty wave of his hand. “But I will keep the nickname.”
