To Seduce An Assassin (The Omaja Series Book 2)(62)

“Stop teasing me, Yavi.” She frowned, glancing over her shoulder at the windows along the back wall. “I’m—I’m really feeling uneasy.”

He studied her beautiful hazel eyes, dark brows, and pink lips. “What would you like me to do, then?”

“Would you…stay? I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Victory!

“Yes. I’ll stay.”





Twelve


Yavi stood in the hallway with his back to Graciella’s bedroom door, arms folded, a smile plastered across his face. He heard water splashing in the basin of her washstand.

“Yavi? Are you still out there?”

“Yes, Graciella,” he called over his shoulder. “I’m right here.”

There was more splashing, the sound of a cloth being wrung out. Then, silence. Minutes passed with no sound.

He turned toward the door. “Are you still doing okay?”

“Yes, I’m just getting out of my clothes. Give me a moment.”

Images filled his mind, of her upturned breasts jiggling as she tugged off her boots, spreading wide as she unlaced and removed the bodice of her dress, and stretching up as she raised her arms to drop her nightgown over her head. He shut his eyes tightly and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, waiting for her to say he could come back in.

The door suddenly opened behind him, and he stood up straight.

“Ready.” She had a wrapper over her nightgown, and her hair was freshly braided over one shoulder. “Come in, please.”

He followed her inside the room, closed the door, and barred it. Then he went to busy himself tending the fire, hoping she’d hurry up and get in bed while his back was turned rather than torturing him by making him watch. You asked for this, Yavi. Let’s see how strong your resolve is tonight.

When he turned around, she was still standing there staring at him. He folded his arms and stared back.

“Well,” she stalled, fidgeting. “I guess I’ll just get in bed then.”

He turned back to the fire, pretending it needed more stoking with the poker, then glanced quickly over his shoulder to see if she was finally in bed or not. She had slipped out of her wrapper, laid it over the footboard of the bed, and was crawling under the covers. He turned back to the fire before she looked up.

“Yavi.”

“Mm?” He didn’t turn around.

“You don’t have to stand guard. You can sit in the chair.”

He turned to face her. She was lying on her side, hands folded under her cheek on her pillow, and peering up at him from under long, dark lashes.

“If I sit in the chair, I might fall asleep, and then the ghost will get you.”

She giggled. “I don’t think that ghost will dare show his face with you in here, whether you’re asleep or not. You’re pretty intimidating.”

“I’m on guard duty. No sitting.” He folded his arms, trying to hide a smile.

“I feel guilty though. I feel like I’m being a selfish brat making you stand guard duty over me while I sleep.”

“You aren’t making me,” he responded softly.

“That’s true. It’s your fault you gave Wolfan the night off.”

“I wasn’t about to allow that randy oaf to stand here and watch you sleep all night.”

“Randy oaf!” She laughed. “Wolfan’s not an oaf.”

“You admit he’s randy, then?” He grinned. “I guarantee he’s randy around you.”

“You guarantee? How can you be so sure? Wolfan had barely spoken two words to me before last night.”

“Any healthy man would be randy around you.” Including the one who’s standing here staring at you right now. “Go to sleep,” he ordered. “Or are you planning to just lie there grinning at me all night?”

“Sorry, it’s just—this situation is kind of comical to me right now.”

“Yes, hilarious.” He rolled his eyes, feigning impatience. “Now, put out your candle and go to sleep.”

She raised up on one elbow to snuff out the taper beside her bed, then lay back down in the semi-darkness.

He turned to stoke the fire a little more.

“Yavi?”

“Yes?”

“I’m scared about the rebellion Jiandra spoke of.”

“Don’t be scared. We will overcome. I promise.”

“I know you are the best swordsman in the world, but you are only one man. I don’t want you to be hurt.”

“I have my brother’s bow with me, and your sister’s healing powers. We faced down Thakur’s Black Armies together, and we will be victorious again. Don’t be afraid, Sheir-zin.”

“What’s sharezeen?”

“It means Little One. Precious One.”

“Oh.” Pale-hazel eyes blinked at him in the firelight.

He fought the urge to kneel like a worshipper at her bedside and grasp her hand in both of his, press his lips to the smooth, creamy skin of her fingers. “Go to sleep, Sheir-zin.”

“I can’t unless you sit down. I don’t know why, but you standing up makes me feel too guilty to sleep.”

He sighed and turned the cushioned armchair to face her bed, then sank into it, leaned back, and rested one booted foot atop the opposite knee. “There. Is this better?”