“That’s awful,” she whispered, not intending him to hear.
But he did, and his green eyes were bleak when they met hers. “Awful doesn’t come close. It was the worst sort of hell.” His eyes closed as his head dropped back against the headrest, and she thought he was finished talking. But then he rolled his head toward her and said, “Do you know . . . I watched the shadows move over the walls every day, waiting for your visits.”
Maeve scrunched her face, embarrassed. “I probably talked your ear off. If I’d known you were truly listening, I’d have tried to be more interesting. Or at least useful.”
“You were more than useful. You saved my sanity. And now, you’ve broken the curse.”
“I didn’t do it on purpose. I mean, I’m glad it worked, but it’s not like I knew what I was doing. I still don’t know—”
“It wasn’t your words that did it, nor some magical cantrip you happened upon. It was your heart, sweet Mae. Your compassion in the face of Sotiris’s hatred.” He smiled. “That and your love of wings.”
Her face heated. “Sorry about that. I probably shouldn’t have stro—touched them the way I did.”
His smile broadened. “You talked about them often enough, even without touching. I rather liked it,” he said lightly.
She pulled into the hotel parking lot, grateful for the dark night that hid her flushed cheeks. Stopping under the portico outside the hotel lobby, she turned to him. “I’ll go in and make the arrangements. It won’t take but a minute. I’d invite you along, but I don’t want to draw attention, in case Sotiris sends someone after us. You’re too obvious. Especially if the desk clerk is female,” she added in a mutter. “Tomorrow we’ll stop on the way, at an outlet mall or something, and stock up. But for tonight, we’ll check into the room discreetly, order some food, and sleep. Okay?”
“More hamburgers?”
She winced. “Maybe something more wholesome. There’s a coffee shop here. Let’s try that.”
“I liked the hamburgers.”
She studied him, trying to figure out if he was jerking her chain. Hard to tell. She suspected he’d have a great poker face. “You ever play cards? You know, gambling? Or wagering?”
He grinned, his face lighting up for the first time since they’d . . . met. “Wagering?” he repeated. “Oh, aye. My brothers and I wagered on everything from women to battle outcomes.”
Well, that didn’t tell her anything. One didn’t need a poker face when wagering on women. What the hell did they wager about anyway? She scowled, not sure she wanted to know. “All right. I’m going in, but I’ll be right back. Stay here.”
He gave her a solemn nod. But this time she knew he was pulling her leg. Though she’d never found it quite as charming coming from anyone else.
Time to go.
DRAGAN WATCHED Maeve as she hurried past the front of the SUV—an abbreviation he now knew stood for Sport Utility Vehicle, although he didn’t see the sport in it. He had so much to learn about this new world, he thought, as he followed her slim figure into the building. She was a lovely wisp of a woman, not at all like the women from the village where he’d lived in his father’s kingdom. They’d been sturdy and round. The camp followers of Nico’s army had been round, too, though softer than the village women.
But for all her slenderness, Mae had enough energy for ten of those women. Her mind was a wonder of imagination and intellect, her eyes sparkling and hands flying when she used to recount the battles she’d fought. It had taken him more than a few recitations on her part to realize those battles hadn’t been real, that they’d been part of an elaborate game she played against others like herself. A game where she hadn’t even met her opponents in person, but had fought the entire battle on the computer.
She’d explained computers to him once, had brought hers in to show him for some reason, assuming he could see what she pointed at. He had been able to as long as she held it properly, though he’d never understood why she’d ever thought so, since outwardly he was a stone statue, with no part of him able to move. Even so, he’d enjoyed her descriptions, and more than once, he’d longed to be capable of offering his advice, telling her what she was doing wrong, and how to win this game she played so intently. It had reached the point where he could barely remember his life before she’d come to the house. Which was odd, since he’d resented her in the first days after she’d arrived.
Over the decades since Sotiris had located him, the sorcerer had dreamed up all manner of torments. From delicious-smelling food he couldn’t eat, to pictures of naked women he couldn’t fuck, and finally television. That had proved the bastard’s favorite form of torture, though Dragan hadn’t viewed it that way. Sotiris had liked to activate the device and walk away, leaving it on for days at a time. Perhaps it would have been torture for a man who knew what the real world was like, but Dragan wasn’t that man. He’d known that time had passed since his curse, had known his world was long gone, and possessed very little idea of what had replaced it. The television programs had been in turns informative, amusing, or repetitive. But much of the English language he knew had come from all of them, even the boring ones.
That had ended when Maeve had arrived, and he’d hated her for it. Until he met her. She’d spoken to him as if he were a living man, though she couldn’t have known the truth. And after Sotiris’s visits, she’d always tried to soothe his supposed wounded feelings. It had made no logical sense, and yet, it had worked. Her words, her touch, had taken away not only the filth of Sotiris’s hatred, but had made him feel as if he was a man again.
She reappeared at that moment, carrying a white bag and running back to the vehicle with the same enthusiasm she’d left it, moments before. He’d noticed that about her. She did nothing by halves. Every day was a fresh challenge, every task faced with all her considerable energy and intellect. He knew she must get tired, maybe sad, but he’d never seen it.
The door opened on her side, letting in a breath of cold night air. “I got us one room together. I thought it would be better, but I can change it, if you want privacy. They have lots.”
“I wouldn’t know what to do without you,” he said, meeting her gaze. Such warm brown eyes, and so contradictory. Yes, there was intellect, but there was also a rare innocence. As if she’d learned about the world, but never experienced it. There was no hardness to Maeve, no artifice. “One room is best. I can sleep on the floor.”
She gave him a surprised glance. “Hell, no. The room has two beds.”