War Bride (Battle Born #7)(11)
Do you always get what you want? She knew the answer, so she didn’t bother asking the question. Besides, she needed to choose her battles and this wasn’t one worth fighting. He caressed each strand, gently unweaving the intricate pattern Rona had created. Skyla stood still and tried to ignore her racing heart. His fingers brushed along her neck and sneaked inside the robe, making her restless.
“You’ve formed social alliances with four different men in the past six years.” His fingers pushed into her hair, clasping the strands without actually pulling. “How many entered your body?”
“Are you going to tell me about each of your lovers?” She tried to look back at him, but his hold on her hair wouldn’t allow her to turn her head.
“If you like.”
It wasn’t the answer she’d expected, so she told him what he’d wanted to know. “I’ve had two lovers.”
“Why did neither of them claim you as mate?” His fingers relaxed, dragging through her hair before he turned her around.
Apparently, that question was more important to him. Why else would he want to see her face? “I wasn’t genetically compatible with either. The first relationship was a harmless fling. We both knew it wasn’t serious.”
“And the second?”
“I thought he was a worthy life partner. He wasn’t my mate, but he had other qualities that I admired. I’d agreed to join with him when my gift warned me of his true nature.”
His brows arched and blue fire sparked deep in his eyes before he calmed his expression. “What has your gift shown you about me?”
“Nothing.” She indulged in a challenging smile as she added, “Yet.”
He made a sound not quite a chuckle then swept his arm toward the bed. “Have a seat and I’ll show you what else I brought.”
“May we please sit on the couch, sir?” She wanted to avoid the bed for as long as possible.
“No.” He crossed the small room and sat on the side of the bed. After tugging off his boots and socks, he arranged the pillows against the wall and raised his hand. “Come here.”
She hesitated, not trusting herself to resist him.
After swinging his long legs up onto the bed, he scooted back against the pillows. “If I come get you, you’ll lose the robe for the rest of the night.”
She moved toward him, each step tightening the knot in her belly.
He took the tray off the nightstand and moved it to the bed beside him.
“Where am I going to sit?” She motioned toward the tray.
“Right here.” He spread his legs and patted the mattress between his thighs.
Touch and tease, he intended to turn every activity into a seduction. “I’m not hungry.” Her stomach growled noisily, branding her a liar.
Apparently hearing the sound, he smiled. “You forgot to tell your stomach.”
If she continued to stall, she had no doubt he’d come get her. And she really didn’t want to lose the comfort of the robe. She reached the bed and he caught her wrist, drawing her steadily forward until she had no choice but to join him on the bed. He guided her into position, her butt on the bed between his legs, her legs arched over his thigh. The robe was long enough to cover her legs, but she was literally surrounded by him.
“Relax. I just want to feed you.”
For now. “I’m perfectly capable of feeding myself.”
He uncovered the tray and revealed a variety of finger foods, most of which she didn’t recognize. There was also a decanter filled with what she hoped was Bilarrian blood wine. Named for its rich red color, the spicy beverage was one of her favorites. But where were the glasses? Bending his leg behind her and resting his hand on his knee, he created a surprisingly comfortable support for her back. He picked up one of the bite-size tidbits and brought it toward her mouth.
“Are you taking me to Rodymia, or will I be kept on this ship?” She glanced into his eyes then accepted the food.
“I haven’t decided yet.”
Her chances of escape were better on a planet, even one as inhospitable as Rodymia. She chewed with more force than necessary, frustrated by her own thoughts. Thanks to her dreams, she knew she wouldn’t escape, so why couldn’t she stop thinking about the possibility? She was afraid, not of surrendering to him, but of what life would be like once he freed her. War brides were social pariahs. Even those with loving families were pitied and shunned by the rest of the elite. No matter what happened from this point on, life as Skyla knew it ended when her captor brought her aboard this ship.
Dwelling on the future only made the present even more unbearable. “Do you command this vessel?” She needed to know more about him, needed to know anything about him.
He placed another bite in her mouth before he responded. “What makes you ask?”
“To be in a position to ensure my safety, you would have to be one of two people, the crew’s commander or the owner of this ship. You were wearing body armor when you kidnapped me, so I believe you’re military, which makes the command conclusion more plausible.”
He inclined his head rather than verbally confirming her assumption. They lapsed into silence as he continued to feed her. Despite how long it had been since she ate, stress was quickly eroding her hunger.
“Is there any way you’d tell me your name, sir?” She added the title as an afterthought, not sure if it would help or not. When he said nothing, she glanced at him then lowered her gaze.