“Too far away.” He took the blanket from the bottom of her bed and draped it over the small sofa, then unzipped his jeans.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting undressed.”
“Why?”
“I’ll do a lot of things. I won’t sleep in jeans again.”
“You’re going to sleep here?”
“I am.” He shucked his jeans, stretched, and grimaced at the small sofa.
“Why didn’t you bring something to sleep in?”
“I’m wearing underwear.”
“Don’t you ever wear pajamas?”
“Not if I can help it.” He picked up his Dopp kit and padded toward the bathroom, giving her a long look at his backside in boxer briefs. “I’m going to brush my teeth.”
“Geez.” She took a blanket from the bed and put it on the sofa, accidentally knocking a photo album off the table. It fell open to a picture of the MacBain boys in full knight garb, scowling. Shay had paid them from her allowance to pose in the costumes. She was the damsel, of course, draped in yards of calico fabric Laura MacBain had found in her attic.
The bathroom door closed, and Shay’s skin tingled as Cody moved behind her, looking over her shoulder. He reached around her and turned the page to a picture of a young Shay and Cody, the same day she chipped his tooth. He flipped another page, and a loose photo fluttered out, falling to the floor. Shay picked it up and looked into the smiling faces of the people she grew up believing were her parents, Bob and Nancy Logan, who died in a plane crash and were buried in a cemetery in Vermont. Who were they? Distant relatives? Actors? Picture frame models? She lost not one, but two sets of parents, neither of whom she knew. Or were they both a lie? The only proof would be to dig them up and check DNA. She felt the old frustration raising its head as she closed the photo album and put it away.
“I’m sorry, Shay.” Cody closed a warm hand over her shoulder and then pulled her into his arms. “We were trying to help.”
She closed her eyes, standing stiff-armed in his embrace. The warmth of his body took the edge off her irritation, and she relaxed against him, letting her softness melt into his harder planes. What was it about him? She couldn’t even think straight when he was near. Her face was pressed against his shoulder, and she could see the bruise her teeth had made on his neck. “I shouldn’t have bitten you, even if you did deserve it.” She touched her lips to the mark.
He pulled in a harsh breath and his hands slid down, resting at the top of her hips. He dropped a kiss on her hair, before moving lower. He nipped her ear with his teeth, and she went boneless, sagging against him. His legs bumped the sofa, and they both sat down hard, Cody first, Shay sprawled across his lap. She licked the bite on his neck, and he groaned.
There was a knock at the door. “Shay?”
Shay scrambled up, patting her hair and clothes, then swiped a hand across her lips, as Cody slipped into the bathroom. She opened the door. “Yes, Nina.”
“Just wanted to say good night.”
“Good night, Nina. It’s good to see you.”
“I’m so glad you’re home. I worry about you, with all the terrible things happening in the world. You look tired, dear. If you’re not sleeping well, Matilda has some pills that’ll knock you out cold.” She turned and looked up the hall. “Matilda! What are you doing? I swear… I have to go.” Nina hurried off, muttering to herself.
Shay closed the door. Cody stood just inside the bathroom watching her. “My turn,” she said, walking toward him. With each step, she prayed, first that he would move; then that he wouldn’t, so they could pick up where they left off.
He moved, and Shay sighed with relief as she entered the bathroom. When she returned, he was settled in. If you could call it settled, with his feet hanging off the end of the sofa. “You don’t look comfortable.”
“I’d be more comfortable in a bed,” he muttered, looking longingly at hers. He glanced at the rose again.
Was he waiting for her to thank him? “Did you leave the rose?”
“No.”
Probably Jamie or Marcas. If Marcas ever gave up being a warrior, he would make a damn fine husband, thoughtful, sensitive, and all male. Shay pulled back the covers and climbed into bed.
Cody lay on his back, arms behind his head, watching her. The tiny rows of symbols on his chest fascinated her. They reminded her of an ancient scroll she once saw in a museum. “Now I know why you wouldn’t talk about your tattoos.”
“They’re called battle marks.”
“Yours are different from Marcas’s and Lachlan’s.” And Jamie’s.
“No two are the same, just like our talismans. They’re sacred, like a written prayer of protection and blessing. We get them when we accept our duty as a warrior.”
“You have a choice whether to accept?”
“A warrior can choose to walk away.”
“Were you ever tempted?”
