Chapter 14

The room's larger than I expected, more a suite than a room, complete with a tub. I hustle over to it as soon as Dabin shut the door behind me. Yes. This is what I need. A bath, some food, and sleep are exactly what the doctor ordered. I'll figure out the rest in the morning. Plot my plan to get home and away from the apparent threat of vampires and figure out how to present my findings to my PhD advisor. Although… I wrinkle my nose. The thought doesn't hold much appeal, for some reason.

A pang of regret hits me. And leave Dabin here, too.

Perching on the side of the tub, I turn the brass handles. Steamy water gushes out of the pipe, pouring loudly into the basin. I run my fingers through it before reaching down and plugging the bottom. Clockwork and running water and magic? For a moment, I wish I'd specialized in cultural anthropology. This place is fascinating. It's similar enough to Earth, the people mostly appear human, the places are close enough to what I've seen of medieval villages that there's a faint familiarity about it all.

Someone clears their throat, and I yelp, startled, before losing my balance thanks to my sore muscles. I hit the floor with a heavy "oof" and stare up at him.

Oh god. It's Dabin.

My face turns beet red. We're alone for the first time since getting into town, without a horse to distract us. Without anything to distract us.

"What are you doing in here?" I sit up, trying to preserve some dignity after my fall to the floor. I straighten a bit of the intricate silk carpet, patting it like I meant to lay on the ground and rearrange furniture.

Dabin's eyes narrow. "I am your mate. I will protect you. These are our rooms, to share. I could not protect you as well if you slept somewhere else."

"From the vampires?" I whip my head to the window, dropping my voice to a whisper. "Are they like, outside right now? Prowling the streets?"

"From anything," he answers on a growl. "And no. People simply go indoors at dusk out of habit, now. Kirdiff has been safe for years."

"Oh," I close my eyes briefly, rubbing the silk rug. "That's good." And it is. I feel a bit better knowing the good ole Butcher King isn't sucking throats outside the window.

"You're safe, my Danielle." He sounds closer, and I open my eyes, squinting up at him. Suddenly I'm aware of how large he is, of how he looks at me like he's sizing me up, like he wants to see how I taste.

"Right," I squeak out gamely. "Sharing a room. Cool. Fine by me." My heart's beating a mile a minute. I inhale slowly, feigning apathy. I run a hand through my hair, disgusted at how filthy and dust covered I am after our journey here. Then my gaze drifts beyond Dabin. The room is big, yes. But there's no privacy, no real separation from the bath to the rest of the room. A fireplace takes up half the far wall, wood stacked neatly inside. The rest of the room is lit by the starlight lanterns, twinkling gently where they hang from the ceilings.

My mouth opens slightly as my brain registers the biggest problem. The bed is sumptuous, covered in soft and inviting gray linens.

But there's only one. I look at Dabin, where he still stands over me, offering me a hand up. The water continues gushing into the tub. A muscle near my temple twitches. I look back at the bed.

"There's only one bed," I manage.

He raises one eyebrow, and the challenge that's been in his eyes all day intensifies.

Seconds tick by, and he finally grins at me. "Are you going to get up before your tub overflows, or should I help you undress as you lay there?"

A wave of heat rushes through me, and I take his hand, letting him pull me to my feet. I need to tread carefully. Despite the signals my irascible hormones are sending me, telling me I absolutely should grab Dabin by the horns and kiss him again, I must be careful. What might be one night of casual sex for me means forever to him.

"There's only one bed," I repeat, tilting my head and raising my eyebrows meaningfully.

"Ah." He scratches his beard. "I can sleep on the floor, if you like."

My mouth scrunches up to the side. I look back at the bed. It's pretty big. It feels rude to make him sleep on the floor. He's been nothing but a gentleman. He said he wants to keep me safe… I have no reason to mistrust him.

In fact, it's me I don't trust.

"Your bath is full." He turns the tap off, his shoulder brushing against my arm as he reaches over. My breath catches, and he glances at me as he straightens, pushing his wavy hair off his forehead.

"Thanks," I say. "Ah. Okay." Once again, I am the master of eloquence. I turn around, starting to unbuckle the belt that's the only thing holding the too-big linen trousers up. I peek over my shoulder when I hear a low chuckle. Dabin is at the fireplace though, absorbed in the task of getting it started. It sure would be nice to have an easier way to start a fire. Then he'd be over here, looking at me instead of messing with the fire starter.

At the thought, my hands warm, I frown at them, turning them over. Maybe I'm having a weird allergic reaction. Or maybe it's stress. Whatever.

Tugging the borrowed shirt over my head and shoulders, I step out of the puddle of pants on the floor. Carefully, I step over the side and into the tub.

I moan as the water licks across my skin. It's perfect, nearly too-hot, just the way I like it. I sink in it up to my chin, my hair unspooling around me. With my eyes closed, I can pretend I'm in my tiny apartment. Except there's no dog barking, no toddlers crying, no muffled arguments through the thin walls.

Can't say I miss that.

I sigh and open my eyes.

The fire blazes in the stone hearth. There's a leather chair next to it, and Dabin's standing still as a statue, next to it. I blink. His gaze is fixed on me, hot and heavy-lidded, and my body reacts immediately.

The bath is hot, but I'm on fire. It wouldn't take much to call him over here, to tell him exactly what I want to do to him. What I want him to do to me. And from the look on his face, the look that's set desire coursing through my veins, he wants to do those things too.

I swallow thickly, dunking all the way under the water. Bubbles wreath my head as I exhale slowly. I can't. How many times am I going to have to tell myself I can't? Frustrated, I curl my hands into fists underwater, squeezing my eyes shut tight. Maybe there's something to this mating bond he keeps telling me we have, something more than the constellation that burns across my skin. Some kind of biological imperative that draws me to him like a moth to flame.

I grit my teeth. The only imperative I can focus on right now is climbing on top the Dabin train and chugging right along until we both come so hard we see the stars he's so hung up on.

I surface, the crown of my head breaking the water. I stay low, like I can hide from him, taking a quick breath, and then sinking back in up to my eyes.

My neat trick at avoidance fails completely. He's crouched next to the tub. I suck in a breath, then choke when it's bathwater. Coughing and sputtering, I sit up.

Smooth.

His sultry expression turns to one of alarm. "Danielle, I did not mean to scare you. I apologize."

I cough again, not sure if I'm disappointed I've ruined the moment, or if I'm relieved.

"Here, I brought you the soap and cloth." His mouth presses into a thin line, and I take them sheepishly as he stands and walks back to the door. "I will fetch us some food. There is a fresh robe in the wardrobe." He points at a massive piece of furniture in the corner. Like everything else, it's carved from wood and looks heavy as hell. "It will do until your new things arrive."

I nod, afraid that if I speak, I'm going to shout at him not to go, or that I'm going to tell him to do something I know I'll end up regretting. Things are fine between us. He's my only friend here. I do not want to ruin that.

"Do not worry. I will be quick. You will be safe enough while I'm gone. Castor wards his inn."

My lips are clamped shut, and I sink under the water again, fighting the urge to tell him to get naked too. I want to see his body. I want to touch his skin and see how well we fit together. Underwater, the door slamming shut is distorted, but I know it's slammed, nonetheless.

I'm being rude as hell, not talking to him.

But isn't that a better alternative than ruining our friendship by giving in to the lust surging through me?