“Do we have to talk about this now?” It was a distraction, he’d wrung enough from her that she couldn’t be humiliated by his need to delve into what remained of her pride, but at the same time, she was far more interested in exploring him.
“We have all day, Ruth.”
Day.
She scissored upward, startling him into releasing her.
“What time is it?”
“Nearly dawn, why?”
“Oh hell.”
It was more than nearly dawn. She felt the first shiver of the sun’s ascent in the languor of her muscles. The cold followed it, swift and pervasive, punching through the lazy heat of desire, drowning the pleasure-warmed muscles.
“I’m sorry,” she managed to say, sitting up with one leg hanging off the bed, she twisted to face him. Her position allowed her to see the alarm that stole across his features as the grayness swamped her and winked Anthony out of existence.
And then she knew nothing.
Chapter Ten
Anthony’s nostrils flared. Where once tangy citrus, dates and the musk of feminine desire had caressed his nose, only a whiff of porcelain remained. Roseatre sat frozen, his blue shirt bunched around her waist, one long leg stretched out on the bed, the other hanging loose.
She didn’t breathe.
She didn’t blink.
She didn’t
Coiled rage vibrated through his cat, claws raking the inside of his skin. The beast demanded that he fix it, that he return Roseatre. Anthony couldn’t agree more. With tender fingers he touched the three slices he’d cut horizontally across her biceps. They were red, discolored and angry against the pale, doll-like porcelain state of her skin.
The surface of her flesh was ice to the touch. Too smooth. Too lifeless.
“Come to life again,” he ordered, gruff emotion clogging his voice. The gold wristbands and collar glowed, warming imperceptibly, but she didn’t move.
Lunging off the bed, he was careful not to disturb her. What would happen if she fell? Would she, like ancient statues in half-forgotten temples, simply crumble? Would she shatter? His mind whirled with violent possibilities. He found the house phone tucked away in the base of another tree.
Could she hear him?
“I haven’t gone anywhere. I’m just calling downstairs to…” He broke off when the jangling ring interrupted and was answered immediately.
“She’s fine, Mr. diNapoli. She will resume her human form at sundown.” The simple statement sent a fresh wave of rage roaring through his blood. Heidi might have impressed him with her no-nonsense attitude and brusque manner, but how could anyone be so cavalier?
“What the hell is wrong with her? What did you people do?”
“It’s not important. What’s important is that she will be herself once more when the sun sets.”
It was a measure of control that kept him from cracking the phone in half. “I have a right to a straight answer.”
“Actually, Mr. diNapoli, you have the right to demand those answers from Roseatre, not from me. If you can’t handle it, I’ll send Stan up to collect her so she can awaken in her own suite.”
“No.” He didn’t have to think it over. He’d eviscerate any man that tried to walk in and take her away.
“Fine. Then I suggest you get some rest. We have approximately eleven and a half hours till sunset. Considering you’ve rehearsed six of seven days this week, I’ll give you and Roseatre the night off. I’ll expect you both, promptly, tomorrow evening.”
And then she hung up.
Anthony stared at the phone, his fist clenching until it broke into three pieces.
She posed the night off like it was a gift. Then reminded him he still had a job to do.
“Your boss is a piece of work,” he told Roseatre’s still form, circling the bed to gaze at her glassy eyes. A mournful keening swelled in his throat. The cat didn’t understand.
Hell, Anthony didn’t either. He considered the key, but she’d been adamant about leaving the collar and bands in place. He couldn’t seem to sit still.
Anthony paced from one side of the small clearing to the other. A questioning yowl came from the direction of the path, but Anthony waved Nalini and the other females off. His distress was calling to them. But he didn’t know how they’d react to Roseatre’s porcelain prison.
He couldn’t afford to find out the hard way.
Did he use the key or not?
Would that free her?
What would he do if it didn’t?
What would she do if she discovered his choice?
The thoughts collided, tumbling over and over. He’d won their sparring match. By the laws of her people and his, she belonged to him. The cat growled in fierce agreement.
“Fine. I’ll leave them where they are, but when you wake we’re removing them. Together. I don’t know what oath holds you to those bands and I don’t care.” That was a lie. Of course, he cared.
He scowled, raking his fingers through his hair.
“Fine, I
That command would linger.
By the gods she would hate him.
But she’d have to be alive to do so, and he would gladly suffer her fury to see the light come back into her eyes, the fierce pleasure of her grin and the wild energy of her being pulsing around him.
The day was endless, interminable. He paced. He swam. He ate what was left of their dinner. The food tasted of ashes and the scents of the forest were too false. His mind could latch on to nothing save the doll awaiting the sunset.
The grass around his bed was flattened, dented with the imprint of his bare feet. He’d stripped out of his jeans to swim and left them in a pile next to the pool.
Shifting, the cat stretched and resumed the man’s circuit, tail twitching. He paused at her bare leg, brushing it gently for fear of harming her. He even whuffled his breath down to her bare, still toes and swiped them with his tongue.
To his disappointment, she didn’t flinch.
The cat finally tired of pacing and waiting. He ignored the phone when it rang, settling down to sit and watch, tail thrashing back and forth.
Sundown approached.
His fur tingled. Nose quivering, he opened his mouth to taste the air. A shiver of feeling scraped an icy-hot path across his teeth and tongue like spearmint. Unexpected, but not unpleasant.
Motion trembled the hand on the bed. His gaze fastened on to the long, slender fingers as they flushed pink
