Trick question. He couldn’t. But…
What if she learned to love herself? Her shoulders straightened, and she blinked up at the ceiling, hope unfurling in her stomach. Yes. Yes! She could learn to love herself. Tristan could help her. He possessed a vast amount of experience when it came to dealing with the opposite sex, and she could make use of that knowledge. Not the way he was used to, of course, spending hour upon hour burning up the sheets, but in a better way.
Better? Fine! Make that a more productive way. He could teach her how to attract a man… How to attract Peter, or someone like him.
And if she didn’t dream about her neighbor the way she dreamed about Tristan, well, that was her cross to bear. She needed a man like Peter. They were more similar, both reserved and lonely, plain and inexperienced.
The question was, would Tristan be willing to help her? She absolutely refused to force him under the pleasure slave code of behavior. Unsure, Julia stared out the window, a pillow clutched to her chest. Stars twinkled in the black velvet sky. Tristan had made his intentions toward her very clear. She was his master, so of course she belonged in bed with him. But he didn’t really want her. He just wanted something to do. Why else would he check the locks on her window?
Um, maybe he’s as lonely as you and Peter?
Tristan? Lonely? No way. Bored was a better word. So why was she sweating this? No doubt he would be ecstatic when she asked him to help her entice another man.
CHAPTER SIX
A Slave Must Never Hesitate
When Given An Order
SUNLIGHT POKED BONY fingers through Julia’s bathroom window, brightening the spacious haven but also highlighting her fatigue. She stared at her pale, tired reflection in the vanity mirror. Bloodshot eyes with dilated pupils. Red, puffy lips, thanks to excessive chewing. “Stress” skin, pink and blotchy.
A leisurely shower had done nothing to improve her I’ve-been-up-all-night-imagining-Tristan-naked appearance.
“Coffee,” she croaked. Her mouth watered in homage to the beverage. “I need coffee.” Then, she would talk to Tristan about Peter.
Just thinking about the upcoming conversation caused her stomach to churn with anxiety all over again. She tried to ignore the discomfort. Nothing had changed; there was no reason to agonize. If she treated Tristan as sweet as a brownie-fudge sundae with extra whipped cream, using lots of smiles and a gentle tone of voice, he couldn’t refuse her.
Unless he secretly wanted to make her miserable? What did she know? He might despise anyone who owned his box. No telling what other owners had demanded he do.
Great! Now her stomach churned faster.
Focus, Julia. You can do this. You can. Determined, she wound her damp hair in a ponytail, shimmied into a pair of beige dress slacks and a white button-down shirt, all super professional, and strode to the door.
Sweet as a sundae, sweet as a sundae, sweet as a freaking sundae….
Two steps into the hall, her foot knocked into a large immobile object. She toppled, plummeting face first and landing with a thud on the hardwood floor. Air shot from her lungs like a Fourth of July rocket. A little dazed and a lot confused, she shook her head and blinked rapidly. Only when she recaptured her breath did her vision clear.
Wait. Was that…it was! Tristan’s sword lay directly in front of her, glistening with menace.
“Julia,” he said, concern tingeing his voice. He was behind her, easing to an upright position. “Speak to me. Tell me you are unharmed.”
“Why were you sleeping on the floor?” She popped to her feet. “Is something wrong with the guest bedroom?”
“I can answer both questions with the same answer. I wished to be near you.”
A flush warmed her cheeks. “We need to find a place to stash your sword, once and for all.” She’d almost sliced herself in half!
“No need.” He picked up the sword and stood, then took Julia’s hand and led her to the kitchen. He tapped the weapon’s tip to the trinket box. The air around both wavered, thickening like dappled water. A second later, the silver metal vanished in a puff of smoke. “It’s done,” he said.
Maybe she’d gotten used to the spectacular. The disappearing act didn’t register as weird or anything. All right. Now that the weapon of doom was out of sight, they could start this day over again. Sweet as a sundae, remember? “We have to talk.” Gentle voice. Bright smile. “There’s something I need to ask you.”
He tensed. Because he dreaded what she would say, or because he anticipated her words? “My attention is yours.” He braced his legs apart and folded his arms over his chest. A pre-battle stance, no doubt. “You may begin.”
She was supposedly in charge here, yet he kept issuing orders. Running a hand down the length of her ponytail, she compiled a quick speech. She drew in a deep breath, then slowly released each molecule of air. “In America, when a man and woman are attracted to each other, they begin to date. A single date might include a romantic dinner, followed by a walk on the beach, or a—”
“Halt there, little dragon,” he said, raising a hand. “We must eat ere you lecture me, for I am in desperate need of sustenance.”
She frowned. “I’ll have you know I do not lecture. I simply state facts.”
“These facts can be stated after we dine, aye?”
“Aye. I mean, yes,” she told him like a good little brownie sundae. But her nervous system might collapse by then.
She grabbed a blueberry muffin from the counter and offered it as if it were a priceless treasure. “Here you go…” Her words tapered to quiet. A shaft of light illuminated Tristan’s hair, creating a glossy halo around his face. He was Hercules come to life just then, only he had a bigger…well, a bigger everything.
Look away before you start shivering.
“Thank you,” he
