LITMIR.BIZ

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still a bastard!” She shucked off the blouse and threw that at him, too. “Here! Why bother with little tactics like too-tight blouses? I’ll walk around like this and you can show me off just like all the other pretty little cows I see herding through the hallways!”

      Magnus drew the velvet, still warm from her body, away from his face and saw her standing there, feet braced hard in righteous anger, fists clenched by her sides, and her body, naked from the waist up, on proud display. From the waist down the close-to-sheer underskirt pretty much completed the picture of her entire figure.

      Holy Light.

      She was something else. Bruised and battered, thin under her ribs, too slim at the waist, but…skin the color of a light touch of milk in coffee, so even and beautiful as it flowed over her very generous breasts. Her nipples were large and dark, a luscious maroon that accented the perfect teardrop shape of each breast. Below that was the span of a flat, taut belly that had seen a great deal of work tucked into its shape. Just above the low-riding skirt was the slightly darkened indentation of her navel.

      The urge to tongue her in that spot rode onto him like a storm out of a clear blue sky.

      His gaze shot up to hers and he hoped to Darkness the fiery desire of that thought wasn’t in his eyes right then. Not that he didn’t expect to be attracted to women or to have sexual cravings, because he was still a man, after all, but not toward her when she might see and be further insulted.

      She’s the one who stripped to the skin, his libido reminded him dryly. What does she think is going to happen?

      “We have time to settle this,” he said, really quite impressed with himself for his flawless tone of voice. “The sai will take a week to make. Instead of throwing tantrums, we might discuss this.” He held out her clothes to her. “Please dress yourself.”

      Her response was rude, crude, and, he was certain, anatomically impossible. He wondered how furious she’d be the day he asked her to tell him where she’d learned language like that.

      She marched up to him, shoving the clothing out of his grip and onto the floor. Her face was flushed with her anger, her dark eyes like amber on fire.

      “Don’t you dare talk to me in that condescending, holier-than-thou tone like I’m some kind of recalcitrant child pitching a fit! I am no child! And you will damn well stop trying to train me like a puppy with rewards and treats if I’m a good girl and withholding if I am bad! If that’s the way this relationship is going, I am walking out of this gilded cage and never coming back. I don’t care what you dreamed with me or what price you paid. I’d rather be a slave in my aunt’s house than a well-heeled lapdog for you!”

      Then she swung at him. She almost caught him, too. Would have served him right for letting himself be distracted by the way her furious body language jolted through her amazing breasts. Gods, you’d think you’d never seen a naked woman before! he tried to sternly lecture himself. Just the same, he caught her wrist tightly in hand, saving himself a bruise, and jerked the little spitfire forward and off balance. She crashed into him, all softness and warmth everywhere, and Magnus instantly recognized his error. She was too close. Much too close. Now that she had bathed and groomed herself, she had an incredible scent that rode on her body warmth like a dolphin skimming waves. He was eye to eye with her, nose to nose with that fury as she glared up at him, but all he could think about was the aroma wafting up from all of that bare skin. Sweet. Soft. Yes, it was like sweet whipped cream. Light and delicious and decadent.

      “Drenna, you smell good.”

      Oh, Light and damnation. Had he just said that aloud?

      Obviously he had. The shock on her face was probably only half as amusing as his, and his throat was completely paralyzed as he tried to figure out how to counter such an incredibly stupid blunder. He’d be lucky to walk out of that room without severely bruised balls.

      “Excuse me?” she said numbly, her free arm curling protectively across her chest.

      Magnus had lived a long time and advised a great many people on how to repair all kinds of situations, but he was at a complete loss right then. He reacted, breaking away from her and walking around her toward the bath at a rapid clip. He should have gone for the hall, but he didn’t doubt for a second that she would follow him just as she was. She wasn’t the type who made threats she wasn’t prepared to follow through with. He was passing the water when she caught up to him, grabbed his arm with both hands, and forced him to turn toward her.

      “We haven’t settled this!” she hissed at him. “Don’t you dare walk away in the middle of an argument.”

      “What are you going to do if I do?” he snapped irritably. “I’m done. We’ll talk when you are rational and clothed.”

      “Oh! Fuck you!”

      That mouth. Quite the weapon, just as he had suspected. And just distracting enough for her to throw all of her kinetic force into a huge shove that sent him staggering back off balance.

      Magnus hit the bath with the most satisfying splash Daenaira had ever heard. Uniform, weapons; the whole kit and caboodle. She probably shouldn’t have jumped and cheered. She should have been running really fast. Instead she waited for him to surface, hands on her hips and a smug smile on her lips.

      “That will teach you to brush me off, you big jerk. And for making me swear at a priest!”

      She held her chin up and marched back to her room. She found her blouse on the floor and tugged it on quickly. This time, there was no way he could be silent as he approached her. For one, he was streaming water. For another, he was rip-roaring mad, and there was no mistaking it in his step. Just as he reached for her, she figured they were going to kill each other. They were both so dominant they would end up tearing each other apart to make a point.

      But quite abruptly he seemed to stop behind her. After a moment or two of listening to him drip on the floor, she turned and looked over her shoulder at him. He was soaked, of course, and his jaw was clenched as tight as his fists. She tried not to look too superior as she lifted a questioning brow.

      “Can I touch you?”

      The request rasped out of him on a hard breath, a combination of his repressed anger and…she had no idea what else. She’d never heard anything like it before. Surprise and curiosity warred with common sense and, more importantly, the understanding that despite his roaring temper he was struggling to keep his promise to her. Struggling and succeeding. Daenaira had very little experience with how to respond to someone respecting her wishes. Considering the indignant dunking she’d just given him, she couldn’t help the desire to relent—and to see just what he was going to do.

      “Yes,” she said, obviously surprising him. It passed quickly, however, and she turned forward as he stepped up tightly against her back. Oh, he was vibrating with anger. She could feel it all through her body. When his hand touched her waist and slid around to cover her bare stomach, she couldn’t help but jolt at the wetness and heat, and the dread of what he was going to do next.

      “It’s time you started learning your duties and the rules to go with them,” he said in a low and dangerous tone.

      “Rules. I see. You mean when I can and cannot have a will of my own.”

      “I mean respect for the religious role you are playing, as well as for mine. If you have no interest in that, then you should leave. I will find somewhere for you to go and live in peace, and that will be the end of it.”

      “That better not be an empty promise,” she said sharply. “I’m obviously not the right person for you. I don’t care what Drenna thinks or what you think.”

      “You are more right for me than you know,” he corrected her, the soft promise in his voice as it whispered lightly over her ear giving her all-new kinds of chills. Was there such a thing as hot chills? There had to be, because they were scudding over every inch of her skin, making all kinds of things pucker in response. “I don’t want a lapdog, little spitfire. I had one, and she turned on me and went for my throat.”

      Dae

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