Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

Jane

I trusted him. Heart and soul. I didn't really have a choice, and I had no frame of reference for what to do. All I knew was that Siroc, the warlord of this Thrail, had stood up for me and not let the Elders put me in a cell. Those were the facts. That was what I knew. Being glued to his side was better than being "confined" somewhere.

The creepy male who'd held my hand way too tightly had to be wrong. Well, first of all, he was, since I wasn't knowingly holding anything back. As for the treachery and deception, I didn't see how that could be. According to all the records the Mitrans had on me, I came here to find love and make a family. Adding what I knew from Paige, it hadn't panned out with the male I'd thought I liked. It sounded pretty straightforward. No treachery at all.

As I walked with the warlord, trying to ignore the giant spear snapping on the ground with each step, and also trying not to feel completely tiny and insignificant next to him, I couldn't help my swell of gratitude for him. I was under his protection, and that meant keeping me out of a cell.

Why not trust him? I knew three people here, and not even really. They were still strangers—Siroc, Paige, and Urix. People we passed sometimes said hello to me, and I replied in turn, even though I had no idea who they were. But with Siroc next to me, I felt like I could handle this. I'd be okay.

My back still burned where he had touched me. Twice . Once gentle fingers brushed the small of my back when we had first tried to leave the Elders' chamber. Then, the second time, it was his whole palm spread from my lower back to the base of my spine. It had been proprietary and extremely protective. A part of me, even though the situation had been stressful, had wanted to lean into his touch, to melt into him. To see where his hands would go if we didn't have an audience.

In the main hall, the smell of food filled the air.

"Are you hungry?" Siroc asked. His voice was a low growl, something I was getting used to.

"Sure," I said, without thinking, but the smell had sparked a feeling in my belly. That gnawing, caved-in feeling of hunger was uncomfortably familiar. "Yes. I'm definitely hungry."

"Good. So am I," he said. "You are no longer on a restricted diet. I will get food for us and we will talk about what just happened."

I glanced back toward the doors leading to the Elders' chamber. "Are they going to come out here?"

He shrugged, as if it didn't matter. It sure as hell mattered to me . "I can have our food brought to our chambers."

Our chambers . Did he have any idea how intimate that sounded? It was a better idea than eating here, looking over my shoulder to see if that awful seer came out. "Okay."

Four Mitran males stood behind a massive stone counter. It was heaped with bowls and baskets of fruit, vegetables, grains. Loaves of bread were being pulled out of a massive oven by the dozen. Meat hung from ropes behind them, and I watched as they pulled down huge hunks and sliced them, adding this and that to cauldrons of what I assumed was soup. I shook my head and rubbed my eyes.

"What is it?" Siroc asked as we approached the counter.

I gestured to the foods on display. "I know that's bread and that's soup, and meats that have probably been salted or dried or preserved in some way. I know the smells of it all, but I can't remember my favorite food. I don't know what I can't stand eating and what I love eating."

His hand came up and his thumb gently stroked the side of my chin. "Then you will find new favorites," he said. "You will discover food you like and food you hate and food that you will eat without caring one way or another. And in time, you may remember what you used to like, but if you don't, that's fine, too."

For a moment, the gentle murmurs and noises of the rest of the hall faded away. The people who had been entering the main hall for food—I didn't even know which meal it was—dropped away, and there was only the warlord and his words, which couldn't have been more perfect if he'd planned them. And I sincerely doubted he did. There was a furrow between his brows. He looked a bit unsure, as if this was all new territory for him as well.

It probably was. I doubted there were many women around who couldn't remember their own names. I waited as Siroc spoke to one of the cooks, who nodded good-naturedly. The warlord returned to me and waved a hand back in the direction of our chambers. Relief loosened my muscles when we were back in the enclave of his room and the door shut behind us.

Siroc placed his spear in its spot near the door and turned to me. "You're safe, Jane. Relax."

"I am relaxed."

He raised one brow. "Do you always hunch your shoulders up to your ears when you're relaxed?"

I forced the appendages in question down and rolled my neck. "That was not a relaxing experience."

"What did you experience?" he asked, peering intently at me. "Did you feel anything when Elnok examined you?"

"Just revulsion," I replied. "I didn't feel a presence in my mind, if that's what you mean. He just made me feel…violated, in a weird way. He was way too close and had this hungry look to him." I drew up my shoulders again at the memory of how the seer made me feel.

Siroc's hands covered my shoulders and gently pressed them down. "He is not here, Jane."

"I know."

"And he will never touch you again." He kept his hands where they were, engulfing everything from my neck to my upper arms.

I looked up at him and smiled. "That's a relief. I—I appreciate what you're doing for me, Pal-Siroc. If I seemed ungrateful initially, I'm sorry for that."

Wide thumbs slid up my throat. He would feel the surge in my pulse, there. He'd feel my sudden swallow, caused by his touch. "Not necessary. You were frightened."

"Yes, but—"

"Jane." He moved in close, bringing his mouth close to mine. I froze, transfixed by the heat in his dark eyes, the hungry tilt of his head. The hands on my shoulders tightened. His body shifted toward mine and I tilted my lips instinctively toward his, waiting for the touch of his mouth to mine. Ready for it. Yearning for it.

A ding cracked through the moment, shattering it like glass. He stepped back, looking dazed for a moment, then turned away and moved to the door, where the sound had come from. He opened it and there stood a pair of Mitran guards, each holding a tray of food. "Come in," Siroc said gruffly. "Put them over there." He gestured to a stone slab table crammed in the corner between his bed and a tall wardrobe.

They deposited the trays with a bow and departed, leaving me alone with the warlord and a whole lot of tension.

He closed the door and stood there, his hand pressed to it. His back was to me. "I should not have touched you, Jane. I apologize for that." His voice was rough.

I looked at his wide back, the horns and the long, fleshy brakas flowing down between them. "Not necessary," I said, echoing his earlier words. "I would have kissed you back."

He went even more tense. "You should not."

"Why?" I twisted my hands together in front of me, unsure why I was doing this to myself. He'd lost himself for a moment—perhaps confused duty with something else—and had made a mistake. One he clearly regretted.

"Because you are under my protection," he said gruffly. "Under no circumstances should you be under my body, which is where I want you."

Wow, that wasn't what I expected him to say. "Um. What?"

He spun around, pinning me with hard black eyes. "Jane, you are in no condition—physically or mentally—to deal with my…" He shook his head and looked away. "From now on you will not have to worry about my advances. I will not touch you. There is nothing here to worry about."

"I wasn't worried," I said in a small voice.

"You trust me to care for you," he said, more to himself than to me. "You've lost your memories. You are still healing from horrific surgeries. If I am to be your protector, that is all I can be."

The finality in his tone put a sour taste in my mouth. "I see."

"You can't know what you want until you know who you are ," he said.

Irritation simmered. Did he have any authority to know the conditions under which I was qualified to feel things? My mind and heart seemed to be working perfectly fine, to me. "I won't argue with you over this."

"Good. We are in agreement."

We weren't. Not at all. All the things he said were right—I had no memories, I was healing, but the feelings I had were independent from all of that. At least, that's what I thought. Maybe he was right and I wasn't equipped to navigate a romance. Thinking about it, now that the almost kiss was over and my head was clear, it overwhelmed me. It was probably a mistake, although it had felt so right in the moment. "Very well." I raised my chin, determined not to let my disappointment and uncertainty show. "You are my protector and nothing more. Can we eat, now?"