Admit it, girlie. You simply don’t have the courage to take him up on what he’s really offering.
She gulped. Maybe she didn’t have the courage, but wasn’t a bad thing right now. He didn’t want her, not really. No sexual desire glittered in his eyes. She didn’t even detect a glimmer of attraction.
Be with someone who didn’t really want her? No, thanks.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Most call me Pleasure Slave.”
Pleasure Slave? “I’m not calling you that.” Not now, not ever. “Do you have a name that doesn’t have anything to do with the bedroom? Like John or Phil?”
A pause, tension radiating from him. “Tristan.”
“Tristan,” she repeated, liking the sound. A strong name. Romantic. It suited him. “That’s what I’ll call you, then.”
“If that is your desire.” He gave her a slow, leisurely smile that held a hint of genuine appreciation.
Her heart rate kicked into overtime, the impact of that take-no-prisoners grin leaving her reeling. Had no one else ever used his real name?
“I will hear your name, little mouse.”
Annoyance replaced her admiration and launched her quickly to her feet. “You can stop referring to me as a tiny rodent who eats garbage. I’m not that unattractive. And for your information, I’m not little. I’m normal. You just happen to be excessively tall.”
His lips twitched, his eyes becoming the purest blue. “So I say again—I will hear your name.”
“I’m Julia,” she replied grudgingly. “Or, if you like being a jerk, call me Jules. I like it just as much as little mouse.”
“I shall keep that in mind.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “Would you prefer I call you little dragon?”
“Nope.” Maybe?
“Little kitten?”
“No! No animal nicknames.”
Eyes twinkling with merriment, he said, “Very well…little apple.”
Argh! “No fruits, either.” And dang him. Why did she kind of want to laugh right now? Why did his amusement delight her?
His lips stopped twitching and started curling. “I am ready to hear what you desire of me.” Pause. “Julia.”
“I want nothing from you,” she hastened to assure him. “Absolutely nothing.”
“Nothing?”
She shook her head, and his features tightened.
“Why did you summon me on three separate occasions if you had no wish to make use of me?” he asked, and mmm, mmm, mmm he looked good enough to eat.
She shrugged while fighting the urge to twirl a lock of her hair. Who am I? “The first time I thought you were an intruder.”
“Ah.” Like the flip of a switch, he lost his dark glower, his expression once again glowing with amusement. “You thought to defend yourself from an Imperian warrior with…what did you call it? Martial arts?”
Imperian warrior? Bristling at his superior tone, she locked her fists on her hips and glared. “My hands are deadly weapons, you know. They’ve killed people. They’ve killed people dead.” No way I just spoke those words aloud. Just no way.
“I believe you,” he said. “If you had attacked me, I’m quite sure I would have died…of laughter.”
Julia fought a surge of anger. The man had a lot of nerve! First he scared the crap out of her. Then he called her a tiny rodent…dragon…fruit. Now he had the gall to insult her nonexistent self-defense skills.
I would have died of laughter, she silently mimicked.
“Where is your husband? You did not kill him with your martial arts, did you?” He uttered a low, rumbling chuckle that purred and soothed and probably sent women to their knees.
Uh-oh. Caught in a lie. A piece of lint on the hem of her white tank top suddenly became fascinating.
“Wait. Did you kill him?” All traces of humor vanished from Tristan’s voice. “By Elliea, you did! Where did you place the body?”
“Elliea? And what is an Imperian warrior?”
“Elliea is—” He thought for a moment. “My creator. A supernatural being with more power than anyone else.”
Ahhh. Another name for God.
“An Imperian warrior is a warrior from Imperia.” He used such a matter-of-fact tone, as if he explained the simplest concept to the dumbest girl on earth, and her cheeks heated several degrees.
“Look,” she said, shifting from one foot to another. “I don’t know where Imperia is.”
He shrugged. “Your predecessor didn’t either. The husband,” he prompted.
“Oh. Well. I’m not actually married.”
Tristan blink-blinked. “No? Then where is your man?”
Shift. “Technically, I don’t have a man.”
“Not a father? Brother? Protector?”
Shift, shift. Jaw clenched, cheeks hotter by the second, she shook her head.
“So you spoke an untruth.” It was a statement, not a question, laced with puzzlement rather than ire.
That was good, right? “I thought you were an intruder, remember? What else was I supposed to say? ‘We’re all alone so go ahead and kill me, since you don’t worry about the neighbors overhearing my screams’?”
“I am not complaining, litt—Julia. I’m glad you do not have a man.”
Julia gulped, not liking the sudden, possessive perusal he gave her. “Is it because jealous husbands are a nuisance?”
Yeah. Sure. “Because no one has ever asked me.”
Hey! Wait a second. She was now offended for married men and women everywhere. Because of Tristan’s profession—chosen? forced?—he might not know much about romantic relationships. To arm him with knowledge, she launched into a speech about the importance of keeping vows and the joys of being in a commitment, something she’d never experienced firsthand.
It wasn’t long before Tristan’s eyes glazed over, and he yawned. “Do you not believe in the sanctity of marriage?”
“I do not have the luxury as I must do whatever my guan ren commands.” His steely tone scraped the very air around them.
She had to assume guan ren meant “master.” “I’m sorry,” she said, hoping to soothe him. “Being a slave, even a pleasure-centered one, must be awful.”
“Such a life is torture every minute of every day,” he grumbled.
Goodness gracious, there had to be some way to help him. The prospect of owning another human being was beginning to make her queasy. “Is there anything I can do to
