Black Moon Draw(58)

Engaged. I repeat the word over and over. I can never do to another woman what Jason did to me.

“We need to leave,” he says with reluctance. His thumb runs across my lips.

I almost sigh in relief. I’m not gonna be the one to walk away, if he kisses me. “I’m not Rapunzel. I can’t get us out of the tower.”

“We will conquer this challenge.”

“You’re very calm for losing four days.”

“What use is anger right now? I cannot channel it towards my enemies from within the tower,” he replies. “My armies are on the border of Brown Sun Lake. They await us.”

“Okay.” It kills me to say that word, knowing he wouldn’t back down if I kissed him.

Releasing me, he flips open a nearby trunk with his foot and leans down to grab clothing. “You will have to wear these. Your boots are here.” He points to the hearth, where the boots made for me are sitting.

Breathlessly, I watch him, my whole body humming with desire strong enough that I’m afraid to walk, lest my shaky thighs betray me.

Tossing the clothing to me, he places his hands on his hips and waits.

“Hel-lo.” I do my best to glare at him and twirl my finger in the air for him to turn around. “Privacy.”

“I have already seen every inch of you with more intimacy than any other woman I’ve ever –”

“I know.” My face is hot again. “Humor me.”

He turns his back to me.

Not trusting him, I yank on the pants and fasten them before tugging off the nightgown and replacing it with the tunic.

Ugh. I hate the idea of not wearing a bra. My boobs are too large for me to run comfortably without one. Tucking in my shirt, I grimace at bunching it up over my hips. While comfortable, the snug pants aren’t anything I’d choose to wear. They’re stretch pants, made of leather, thick enough to smooth out my thighs and ass.

A vest similar to that Disney Princess helped me put on is the last thing in the pile, also made of leather and much stiffer than the pants.

“I’m ready,” I say, lifting the vest. “Not sure I need this, though.”

Three large steps bring him to my side of the room. He takes the vest. “Arms up.”

I lift them obediently.

He tugs the vest over my torso, releases then begins fastening the buttons along the front, from the bottom up. “You adjust it depending on the size of your breasts.”

He’s fastening their version of a bra. Beyond embarrassed again, I try not to notice the way his long fingers deftly button the bodice-hugging vest.

“Different. Where I’m from,” I manage, too aware of the fact he’s nudging one of my breasts up to fasten a button beneath it. “I can do it!” The words are louder, sharper than I intend.

I whirl my back to him and fumble with the final buttons, about to lose any sense of cool I might’ve retained during this rough morning. The vest is moderately comfortable and will keep my boobs still.

Bathroom! I look around expectantly and spot the magical outhouse that appears when I order it to. My fingers fumble with the lock, my thoughts too scattered by images of the Shadow Knight naked for me to focus on any one thing. I manage to open the door and sink against one wall, sighing, cursing, and willing myself to act like a grown woman instead of a horny teen.

When I’ve done my business and recovered my composure enough to face him once more, I emerge.

The outhouse disappears.

“Ready,” I proclaim with more confidence than I feel. “Now what’s the plan?” I avoid looking at him and go to my boots by the hearth.

“Jumping will likely render us dead. So we go up.”

“Up?” Sitting on a stool, I wrestle one boot on then the next. There’s no blood anywhere. While stiff, they fit. “You cleaned these, didn’t you?”

“Aye.”

A weird sensation is sliding through me, one I can’t identify. This man I’m struggling to keep my distance from spent four days watching over me, cleaning me up, and caring for me, down to my boots. It’s never happened before and not only because this is my first time getting thrown into another world. I’ve never really known anyone – except my mom – who would’ve done similar.

I don’t want him to have redeeming qualities. I want him to be obsessed with war and physically attractive – but no more.

You have a reason to stay. The battle queen’s words repeat in my mind.

It can’t be him. If that’s remotely true, it’ll be because I’m a good person who wants to save a world from dying, not because I’m starting to fall for a man I can never have.

Pure. Physical. Attraction. It can be nothing else. Being with him is getting under my skin, and his kindness while I was dead or healing stirs a powerful emotion I’m not ready to deal with.

“I will help you return to your home, if you face the curse,” he says in the quiet.

I blink away my pensive silence and stand. “Can you even do that?”

“I may know a way.”

Frowning at him, I scour his features. “You told me you didn’t!”

“You will not leave now that you understand why you must stay. ‘Twas not true before. I lied to keep you here.”

“So assuming we can save the world, you’ll send me home?”