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Slaying the Vampire Conqueror(47)

Author:Carissa Broadbent

Weaver, he was actually blushing. That was so amusing it made it blissfully easy to ignore the little, uncomfortable truth—that it had felt good to be touched that way. I didn’t want to think too much about how my own body had responded to his.

“It’s fine,” I said. “Really. Besides, I get the impression a good dream was probably a nice break for you.”

I was being overly charming, worming my way into his affections. And yet… it was still the truth. The ache of his pain still throbbed under my skin, a distant echo. I knew how to withstand pain, but even I couldn’t imagine living with that every day.

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. His hand wandered to his chest and pressed there, as if in wait.

“You are in a lot of pain,” I said.

His eyes flicked back to me, a wordless rebuke, but I stood firm—confronting it, even if he wouldn’t.

“I won’t tell anyone,” I said. “I know you aren’t a man who likes to reveal your weaknesses.”

His jaw tightened. He let his hand fall. “Good. I expect as much.”

I stood. His stare lingered on my body. I was suddenly aware of exactly how much skin this stupid little scrap of silk didn’t cover.

I only smiled.

“Enjoying the view?”

“Go change into real clothes,” he muttered. “Before the others see you.”

“Why? Are you jealous?”

Risky, to tease him like that when he was so obviously embarrassed. I wasn’t sure why I did it, other than an inexplicable, compulsive need to make light of the uncomfortable sensation I couldn’t shake.

He gave me a flat glare.

“No,” he said. “They don’t need any more distractions.”

“I’m a distraction? That’s very flattering. And here I thought you didn’t notice.”

A beat. An odd expression crossed his face. Almost a smile, maybe—albeit from someone who had never witnessed one before.

“I’m not the blind one,” he said.

I was so caught off-guard that a choked laugh escaped me without my permission, and maybe I imagined the glimmer of satisfaction that slipped from between the walls of Atrius’s ever-guarded presence.

No, he wasn’t the blind one.

I was, and yet I still was very conscious of his bare skin as he led me to the door.

“I noticed you didn’t come back to your room yesterday.”

It was a long, busy night. Atrius was preparing to march out again soon, leaving behind a skeleton force to keep control of Alka, which meant there was a lot to do here and not very much time to do it.

What I had done to help Atrius was outside of my usual abilities, and stretching myself like that had exhausted me thoroughly. My head ached for the rest of the day, and I was unusually clumsy because the threads around me were fuzzier and more difficult to grasp.

By the time I collapsed into the armchair in my bedchamber, I was more than ready to sleep. But at Erekkus’s comment, my head snapped up. I arched my brows.

“You noticed?”

“It’s my job to keep track of your comings and goings, actually.” He narrowed his eyes at me as he slumped into the chair across from mine. “Was wondering all night why you’re so tired.”

“When Atrius told you to keep track of my comings and goings, I don’t think he was telling you to keep track of that kind of coming.”

Erekkus snorted, then leaned forward. “So there was coming.”

Weaver help me. That’s what I got for stupid jokes.

“No. There was not.”

“I’m not sure I believe you.”

“He’s your friend. If you want to hear the tantalizing details of his sex life, go ask him. He’ll tell you the same thing I did.”

Erekkus let out a bark of a laugh. “Friend. Goddess, you think I’m Atrius’s friend. As if Atrius has friends.”

That snagged my interest. “You two seem to get along. He talks to you more than the others.”

“Perhaps, but it’s like…” He frowned, searching for the right word. “Do you have stray cats here?”

“Not many anymore, but I’m familiar.”

One of the first animals to go in the famines. Anything in the cities with meat on its bones was captured and eaten by starving families. Domestic animals never made much of a return after that.

“Well,” Erekkus said, “he’s like a cat. He doesn’t have friends. He just tolerates your presence.”

I said, with exaggerated disbelief, “And yours is the one most tolerable to him?”

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