The Darkness in Dreams (Enforcer's Legacy, #1)(43)

An abrupt indifference as he withdrew his hand. A fierceness in those dark eyes. He moved closer. It took an extreme effort for Lexi not to step back.

“Did you enjoy your bath?” he asked, and she watched as he took another step, then another, as if he couldn’t halt the progress.

“I was wet and cold,” she said.

“Then you were wet and warm.”

“And now I’m cold again.” Her voice became strangled, her breasts beneath the towel growing sensitive to the nubby weave. Christan reached out and lifted a strand of her hair, held it up to the light.

“You’re still covered in soap.”

“I’ll wash it off.” Lexi shied away from the midnight glint in his eyes, turned, ran to the bathroom—ran like a frightened rabbit while he padded after her on silent lion feet.

“Let me help.” His hands landed heavy on the curved edge of the boulder built into the wall, preventing escape. The heat of him reached the most responsive part of her.

“I’m not a child,” Lexi protested, but his hands brushed against her breasts before he lifted her and the protest died an early death.

“Tip your head,” he ordered, settling her hips on the flat surface surrounding the sink. The large carved basin was behind her. Christan turned on the taps. A moment later, he’d filled the sea-glass pitcher with warm water and was tipping it over her hair.

“You’re pouring water down my back,” she pointed out.

“Then don’t struggle.” He reached down and spread her thighs, stepped closer. Then he tipped her head. Water ran down the length of her hair and into the sink. “Better?”

“No.”

“Then don’t make it worse by wiggling. You’re already wet as a dog.” His touch was familiar, their banter easy, intimate, and she knew they’d spoken to each other this way many times before.

“Should I take comfort in being compared to a dog?”

“You should take comfort in being warm and wet.” He was using his thumbs to push the trickling water back from her temples, pressing closer, moving those hands through her hair, stroking her scalp.

Lexi leaned into the caress. She turned her head, let him pour more water, shivered beneath the sensuality of the moment. “I shouldn’t be letting you do this,” she said.

“It’s being done now, so stop thinking about it.”

“I like thinking.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“And maybe I remember more about you than you think.” Her eyes closed, but one hand had lifted to press against his chest when he leaned too close. “I recall a certain ability for manipulation.”

“Never with you, cara,” he said as he squeezed the water from her hair. He settled her on her feet and pushed her into the bedroom, the now drenched towel still clutched around her breasts. It was cold and heavy against the back of her thighs.

“I’m still wet,” she said without realizing the way he took it until she heard him laugh.

“Go stand by the fire.”

“Orders.”

“We’re not dealing like adults?”

Lexi grew wary. This man could put her on the floor, get into her mind and give her dreams worse than the nightmares if he wanted. She’d flung some power he’d given her back into his face and he’d been writhing on the floor. They shared lifetimes together, lifetimes she couldn’t remember. And they hated each other. Lexi shouldn’t forget that part. They hated with a fire that lasted centuries. He was immortal and not completely human and she shouldn’t forget any of it.

Christan relaxed against the wall, giving her plenty of space. Lexi shivered. He moved his hand again and flames in the fireplace leapt higher.

“That’s a pretty handy talent you have.” Christan raised an arrogant eyebrow and Lexi wanted to scream. “Can you do anything else beyond lighting fires, opening drawers, and face planting innocent people on the ground?”

It was meant as an insult, but he smiled with such slow devastation she knew he was equal to her taunts.

“Maybe.” His eyes held a wicked glint of silver. “Would you like a demonstration?”

“You’re not going to face plant me on the floor again, are you?”

“What do you think?”

Christan widened his stance, crossed his arms. The muscles flexed, light catching the dark tattoos. He was still leaning against the shadowed wall, a deceptive predator waiting on higher ground, holding her poised on the edge of a blade. One wrong move and she’d be sliced to ribbons. Lexi’s hand fisted deeper into the towel. When she turned away, her legs were trembling. She pretended the weakness was due to the cold.

“I think I don’t trust you,” she said, keeping her back to him.

“Well, only one way to find out if you do.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“Do you want to find out, or don’t you?”

She hesitated, staring into the fire. “Maybe you could just tell me.”

“A demonstration is more effective.” His voice was low and seemed to trace down her spine. The wet towel draped and exposed the small of her back. Lexi’s throat tightened.

“Turn around and look at me,” he said.

Lexi glanced over her shoulder. “I don’t take orders well.”