“I do know the only reason he lives is because you sat in his lap and I’d rather not see you covered in his blood.”
My chest turned cold. “Because he spoke of cutting off your arm? He was only kidding— albeit stupidly, but he wasn’t being serious.”
“I’m not talking about that.” He took a sip. “Though, I do agree that was stupid.”
“Then what?”
“He was touching you,” he answered. “I didn’t like it.”
“What? Are you saying you were jealous?”
“Yes.”
My laugh shattered the silence that followed. “You cannot be serious.”
Slowly churning eyes met mine. “Do I appear as if I am teasing?”
No, he did not. I gaped at him. “Why in the world would you be jealous?”
“I don’t know.” He brushed a strand of hair back behind his ear. “Not knowing has become quite commonplace when you’re concerned. I’m not sure if it annoys me or excites me.”
“Well, it confuses me.”
“Your reluctance in this confuses me.”
“Truly?” As he stared back at me, I could see that he spoke the truth. “You really don’t get it? Like it doesn’t even occur to you that demanding something like this from another would anger them?”
“If you and I had not known one another? If I didn’t know how much you enjoyed my touch? Then yes, I could understand someone’s anger, but that’s not the case between us.”
“Just because we know each other and I’ve enjoyed your touch doesn’t mean I don’t want to be asked, nor that I would continue to enjoy such things.”
“But I know you want my touch,” he countered. “Just a few minutes ago, your pulse rose in arousal— ”
“Oh my gods.” I lowered my glass to the table to prevent myself from throwing it. “I can’t believe I’m even having to explain what should be taught at birth— ”
“But I was not born,” he interrupted, brows furrowed.
“That shouldn’t mean . . .” I trailed off, staring at him. My lips parted as what he’d said earlier that day in my chambers struck me— the lack of humanity. A lot of things fell under that, going beyond just caring for another. Being understanding did. Thoughtful. Considerate. Without humanity, there was just . . . “Logic.”
“Logic?” he repeated.
I shook my head. “Deminyens operate on logic and not emotion?”
He seemed to think that over. “That would be somewhat accurate.”
But logic was cold, and he wasn’t that. “Last night you asked me to join you in the tub. You didn’t just assume that is what I wanted.”
“I knew that was what you wanted,” he said, and my eyes narrowed. “But I sensed your nervousness— the skip in your breath was part uncertainty and part arousal.”
“Can we just stop saying ‘arousal’ for the rest of our lives?”
“Why?” The blue of his eyes lightened. “Because the truth of how you feel around me bothers you?”
“Maybe— oh, I don’t know— I don’t need you pointing it out every five seconds?”
His chin dipped. “So you do acknowledge that you are aroused by me.”
I opened my mouth.
“I have this distinct feeling you’re going to lie,” he said, a hint of smile playing across his lips. “And claim that you will not enjoy your time with me.”
“Whether or not I will doesn’t matter. You should always ask.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why when we both already know what is wanted?”
Blowing out an aggravated breath, I desperately clung to my waning patience. “Because you shouldn’t assume that will never change. It can. It can change at any second for various reasons.”
“Hmm.” The sound hummed from him as his gaze flicked over me. “I suppose then I must endeavor to ensure that doesn’t change.”
My lips pursed. “That wasn’t the point I was getting at.”
“It’s not?”
I sighed, twisting the laces on the gown. “I feel like we’re speaking two different languages.”
That half grin appeared as he finished off his wine. “So, na’laa, would you like to join me this evening and upon my return?”
I glared at him.
“What?” Somehow he was closer, less than a foot from me. “I’m doing as you requested. I’m asking.”