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The guards barked an order at them to continue working but they didn’t stop chuckling as they bent back over their tools to restore the wall.
I reached down a hand to help Trayem up.
He didn’t take it and rose up by himself.
“Sorry about that,” I said.
He dusted himself off and shook his head.
“I can’t say that’s ever happened before,” he said with a grin. “How about we try that again?”
We entered his room for a second time. He drew up close to me and resumed his pose with one hand on my hip, the other on my cheek.
But the magic was broken.
At least, for the time being.
“How about you take a shower first?” I said. “You’ve been fighting all day.”
“Actually, it didn’t take more than ten minutes.”
“Still, wouldn’t you feel better after having a wash?”
He took the hint.
He didn’t smell, save for that delicious raspberry aroma I couldn’t explain. Even his boots were hardly dusty from the fighting pit floor.
“I suppose I could do with a little scrub,” he said.
He moved to his wardrobe and collected some fresh clothes.
“Help yourself to anything you want to change into,” he said.
He pecked me on the cheek as he left the cell and headed for the communal showers.
The door hissed shut and I leaned back, pressing my back against the wall.
I had dodged a bullet.
Narrowly.
There was a lot more time to negotiate before the night was over.
Just how was I going to keep him—and myself—at bay?
By the time Trayem returned to his room, his fringe was wet and his clothes were still damp from rushing to dry himself off.
I was tucked away in his bed, the blankets drawn up to my chin, prepared, and ready with a plan.
He smiled at me as he crossed the room to his wardrobe and deposited his dirty clothes in a separate box.
“Comfortable?” he said.
“Very.”
“I was going to ask if you wanted to use the showers. But I guess it’s a little… uncomfortable considering there aren’t any female showers and you’d have to share with the other male prisoners.”
I chuckled. Then I reached over and tapped the other side of the bed for him to join me.
