It was still early, judging by the golden light slanting through the window. Now that I was conscious, though, reality was starting to clamor for my attention again. I was wide awake now, practically brimming with the energy I’d stolen from the man beneath me. With slow movements, I extricated my body from his, pausing to press a kiss to his lips when he stirred.
“Shh,” I whispered. “I’m just going for a shower. It’s still early.”
He settled back, and I slid off the bed. The spaghetti straps of my ripped nightgown were still looped around my shoulders, leaving the ruined garment hanging down my back like some sort of bizarre cape.
Super Slut, I thought, a flush of giddy heat rising at the memory. But, shit, I was apparently the granddaughter of a sex demon and I’d somehow bagged a seven-hundred-year-old vampire as a fuck buddy.
I was damn well going to own it.
I let the silky fabric slide down my arms and grabbed it in one hand. Totally ruined, as I’d suspected... and still worth every penny. I debated the merits of dragging the ripped nightgown around in my single piece of luggage, versus throwing it away in a stranger’s house for them to find and wonder about later.
I shoved it in the suitcase. Apparently Super Slut still had a few issues to work through before flying her freak flag for the entire world to see.
To make up for it, I grabbed Rans’ discarded shirt from yesterday off a chair in the corner of the room where he’d placed it. Fair was fair. He’d been responsible for the cruel and unusual treatment of my lingerie; his punishment was the loss of a shirt. I slipped it on, only bothering with a couple of buttons, and went to take that much-needed shower.
I returned dressed the same way—with the addition of clean underwear—to find Rans still asleep, although he had at least shifted position. Filled with the need to do something even though it was stupidly early in the morning, I staked out an area of carpet between the bed and the door. The yoga routine relaxed my muscles and kept thoughts of my father and the danger we were facing from completely taking over my mind.
“Wait. You’re wearing knickers?” came a rough, freshly woken voice from behind me. “Seriously? And things were shaping up so promisingly there for a few minutes.”
I broke position, twisting out of my textbook downward dog to face him. He was leaning on an elbow, looking rumpled and thoroughly fucked. And... yeah, okay. It was a really, really good look for him.
“Are you ogling my ass while I’m trying to do yoga?” I asked, crossing my arms and playing at being offended.
He laughed. “Your arse is smashing, luv, but I was ogling the whole package.” His expression grew proprietary. “Along with the fact that your package is currently wrapped in one of my shirts.”
I gave him a sugary sweet smile. “Yes, well—someone seems to have destroyed the perfectly nice nightgown that I only bought a few days ago. With Guthrie’s money, I might add.”
“It was in my way,” Rans said carelessly. He looked me up and down, a speculative expression crossing his face. “Tell me... were you ever trained in dance?”
My eyebrows drew together in confusion. “Not unless you count ballet when I was, like, seven,” I said. “Why?”
“I’m trying to decide the best way to teach you to fight,” he said, as though that wasn’t a completely off-the-wall statement. “You have a dancer’s build, and good flexibility. Classical dance is one possible avenue into the martial arts.”
Were we really having this conversation? I stopped myself before saying something dismissive... or disbelieving. It would have been hella-useful to know how to fight when Caspian’s goons had tried to drag me into his car. True, I’d already been near collapse that evening—but given what my life had become now, who was to say that I wouldn’t need better self-defense skills in the future?
“Okay,” I said slowly. “Well, I don’t know that Mrs. Pepperdyne’s beginning barre exercises are going to help much at this point, but I did take a couple of self-defense classes when I was a teenager.”
Rans nodded, thoughtful. “That could be useful. Let me think about logistics. You should at least know some basic moves. That, combined with the power you demonstrated when you thought Alby was going to hurt us will keep you from being completely helpless the next time the Fae catch up to us.”
My eyes widened. “I am not sucking sex energy out of random people who try to attack me!” I said, appalled.
He scoffed. “Oh, yes—much better to let yourself be taken by your enemies than to risk offending your delicate human sensibilities.”
At that, I bristled. “I never asked to be involved in periodic fights for my life, Rans.”
His face softened. “No. I don’t suppose you did.”
“Besides,” I added, trying to lighten the mood, “Fae energy makes me feel itchy.”
He let the argument go, and stretched. “Yes, they are a rather prickly lot, aren’t they? But you should still learn to fight.”
I let my eyes roam over lean muscle and sinew before reluctantly acknowledging reality. “I’ll think about it. So, when can we go talk to these people who might be able to help find Dad?” I asked.
Rans cast a jaundiced eye at the sun outside, and covered a yawn. “I imagine they’ll be available in an hour or two. I’ll go take a shower and try to wake up.”
He still looked pretty wiped out, and a twinge of guilt hit me.
“I drained you too much last night,” I said. “You should have stopped me.”
He snorted. “Stopped you? Are you mental? Don’t fret, luv. It was... good. Dawn’s just not a great time for vampires. I’ll grab a bite when we’re out and about later. It’ll be fine.”
“Grab a bite?” I echoed. “You’re a real comedian, you know.”
Rans flashed a crooked grin and rolled out of bed, pausing to drop
