Dragon Soul (Dragon Falls, #3)(37)

He didn’t answer, and Sophea cast him a questioning look. “Are you okay? You look pale.”

“I’m fine,” he croaked, and cleared his throat. “I’m just a bit… frustrated.” He gave her a potent glance, hoping she would pick up on his meaning, but she simply went over to sit on the end of Mrs. P’s bed. “I think we’d all feel better with a little food. Did you pick out what you want for lunch, Rowan?”

He was tempted to answer, “You,” but caught himself in time. He wished Sophea would sit next to him, as she had in the car, where he could breathe in the sweet scent of her, one that reminded him of orange blossom honey.

She tasted just as sweet, and once again, he had to adjust the pillow in his lap to keep his thoughts from being obvious. Part of his mind was irritated that she held such power over him, while the other part was cataloging all the things about her he liked, everything from that sleek, glossy black hair to the tilt of her enticing eyes, and the way she seemed to exude warmth.

He wanted her to exude on him, again. He wanted her making shy little touches to his thigh, and pressing into him until he just wanted to take her in his arms. He wanted her mind, her unique mind thinking about him. He wanted to hear her brag how badass she was, and to make sure that nothing dinged that newfound confidence in herself.

He had no idea why he’d become so fascinated by her, but he wasn’t going to fight the attraction.

Except, of course, that he had to get her out of there. She wasn’t safe on the trip into Duat, and he wasn’t sure if he had the power to keep her from harm. Just the thought of something happening to her while they were in the Egyptian underworld left him feeling cold and clammy inside.

He had to keep her away from potential trouble. Once he had the ring, once the demons weren’t trying to get it, then he would return to her and beg her to take pity on him.

The problem was… he shook his head to himself. Sophea had warned him she wouldn’t help get the ring, not that she knew the importance of it, but instinctively, he knew that even if she had been aware of it, she’d be loath to do anything to harm Mrs. P.

Dragons were fiercely loyal beings, and even though she wasn’t a full-fledged member of that species, clearly Sophea had given Mrs. P her loyalty and would move heaven and earth to protect her. No, he said to his warring bodily desires. She had to be kept safe. And the only way to do that was to get her to go back home.

“Rowan?”

“Eh?”

She waggled the menu at him. “Lunch?”

“Ah.” He cleared his throat a second time, and said only slightly hoarsely, “The steak will do nicely for me.”

“Meat eater, eh?” She flashed him an irrepressible smile that almost immediately faded to nothing. “I try to stick to a vegetarian diet, but then I cave to temptation, like last night.”

He was tired, that was all. Overly tired, and stressed, and unhappy over being involved in this unpleasant job, and that’s the reason why the time he’d spent with Sophea the night before had blown up in his mind to an event the likes of which he’d never experienced.

“Those sausages were something, weren’t they?”

And now you’re lying to yourself, his quiet inner voice said with a disappointed tsk. Just admit it—she has a body that fits you perfectly, a naiveté that makes you want to protect her from the evils of the world, and a quirky mind that exactly suits your own warped sense of humor. You fancy her, mate, pure and simple. So tell her, already, and be happy for a change.

“Oh, shut up,” he muttered, but evidently not softly enough, because Sophea tossed a startled look his way.

“Pardon?”

“Sorry, it was nothing. Just me talking to myself.”

Her nose scrunched in that delightful manner she had. “I thought you were referring to my sausage double entendre. Do you often tell yourself to shut up?”

“I do when my mind is being obnoxious. If you’ll excuse me a moment, I’ll go wash my hands before we eat.”

He used the few minutes of privacy in the bathroom to get his errant mind (and related body parts) under control. The face that stared out of the mirror at him bore obvious signs of strain—there were silver threads starting to show up in his hair, his cheeks had a gaunt look that he hadn’t noticed before, and lines that he hadn’t remembered had suddenly sprouted at the edges of both eyes.

“You look like hell,” he told his reflection. “No woman in her right mind would consider you as a viable sexual partner, let alone someone to spend any length of time with. Get the job done and go back to Sao Pedro where the only thing you have to worry about is interfering tourists.”

His inner voice had some things to say about that, but he ignored them, instead focusing his intentions on talking Sophea out of taking the cruise. He had a horrible feeling she was misinterpreting his desire to keep her safe, but he would simply straighten that out later, once he knew she was removed from any danger.

“—well and fine, but don’t know what I’m going to do about clothes. I mean, this cruise is for a week, and I only packed two days’ worth of clothes,” Sophea was saying when he exited the bathroom. “And I don’t have much money to buy more.”

“Cruises always call for lots of clothing,” Rowan said, nodding sagely just as if he knew what he was talking about. Which he didn’t—he’d never been on a cruise in his life. “Far better to save your money for other things, don’t you think?”