Accepting the inevitable, she snagged her hoodie and pulled it on, resigning herself to a warm night. She did, however, walk over to the thermostat and lower the temperature, for all the good it would do. She was convinced those things were only put on the wall to make hotel guests feel as if they were making a difference, when in reality, they did nothing at all. The bathroom door opened when she was on her way back to the bed, so she detoured in that direction, to wash her face and brush her teeth. Some routines had to be followed even when a gorgeous warrior was dropped into your lap. Or maybe, especially then.
A few minutes later, she’d finished with her face and was brushing her teeth, when Dragan came to lean against the doorframe and watch her. It had become a habit not to shut the door completely, since she’d lived alone, but now she found herself with a mouth full of foam, unable to speak and giving him a questioning look in the mirror.
He met her gaze, but just smiled, as if it were perfectly normal for him to stand there watching her. She scowled, which had no effect, and so she finished brushing and rinsing, then wiped her face on a towel and turned around.
“Here,” she said, handing him one of the brushes she’d picked up in the lobby store. “You can use my toothpaste.” Taking off the cap, she handed that to him, as well.
He studied the brush first, and gave the tube of toothpaste a curious look. Then finally, he ripped open the plastic wrapping around the brush, then squeezed the tube way too hard, but managed to capture enough of the paste to be useful. Maeve helpfully turned on the water, but having seen her in action, he took it from there.
Figuring her job was done, she patted his arm and went back into the bedroom to lie down on the bed near the window. And that’s where she was when Dragan emerged from the bathroom. “That’s very refreshing,” he commented, moving his lips and cheeks as if tasting his own mouth. “Much better than what we had.”
Maeve shot him an inquisitive look. She’d always wondered about that, figuring since people hadn’t lived as long, their teeth simply rotted and fell out as they aged.
Catching her look, he explained. “We used spirits and a piece of leather.”
“Spirits, as in alcohol?”
He seemed puzzled, but then his expression cleared. “Right, you call it alcohol. Yes.” He shrugged. “It’s not something I thought much about back then, or during my imprisonment.”
Maeve looked down, feeling shy and incredibly unsophisticated. Who the hell talked about dental hygiene in a situation like this? He’d been born into some kind of parallel universe, a completely different world, and she was asking about fucking toothpaste.
Dragan dragged all the covers from his bed, leaving them to hang over the end, then dropped heavily onto the mattress, making Maeve jerk in surprise. He swung his head around to regard her, then said quietly, “I would never hurt you, Mae. I need you to understand that.”
She tried not to squirm under his serious gaze, feeling guilty that she might ever have considered otherwise, and even worse that she’d made him feel the need to say it. “I know that,” she said, making her words as solemn and quiet as his own. “It’s just . . . I lived alone in Sotiris’s house for a long time. It was too big for one person, so I was always a little twitchy, listening for things that went bump in the night. Sorry.”
“Those things you waited to go bump, as you say, probably did. He had all manner of magical artifacts in that house, most of which you probably never saw. Nor did I, other than the one room, but I could sense them, even through the stone of my prison.”
She shuddered slightly. “In that case, I’m retroactively creeped out even worse.”
He chuckled. “I don’t understand half of your words.”
“Sorry. Contemporary idioms and slang are the most difficult aspect of any new language. And I just sounded like a textbook. Sorry. Again.”
His smile widened. “Don’t be sorry. When you’d come visit me in the basement, you always knew exactly what to say. Sometimes, you’d simply sit and keep me company. Sometimes you’d tell a funny story, or read from one of your books. You connected with me in a way no one had for thousands of years. Never apologize for who you are, Mae.”
She studied him for a long time, trying not to show her surprise. No one had ever said that to her before. Her parents loved her, but they’d always been so busy with their medical practices, even at home. When they weren’t being called out on some emergency or other, they were in their respective home offices, calling patients or catching up on their reading. When she’d finally started school, she was so accustomed to keeping her own company that the other students had assumed she was shy and left her alone. And by the time she hit college, the assumption had become reality. It was one of the reasons she loved spending so much of her time online. She was never shy there.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “And I’m not afraid of you. I’m—” She struggled for the right words. “I’m so glad you’re free, and that I was able to help you, though I’m still not sure what I did. But that doesn’t matter, because now that I know the situation, I can help you find your people, and that’s wonderful.”
“We’ll do this together, then. There’s no one I’d rather have by my side.”
Maeve’s heart jumped with happiness, but she didn’t show it, not wanting to ruin her serious image as a partner in this quest. And she reminded herself not ever to say that out loud.
Dragan laid back down after that, legs crossed at the ankle, hands clasped over his abdomen, eyes closed.
“Should I turn out the light?” she asked.
He responded without opening his eyes. “I have no need for it, but if you do, it won’t disturb me.”
Reaching up, she pushed the rocker switch on the lamp. The room was darker, but not dark. There was too much illumination from the parking lot, though she’d adjusted the blackout drapes to minimize the intruding light, while still letting some fresh air in through the open window. She lay unmoving after that, waiting for Dragan to fall asleep. She’d meant what she said about not being afraid of him, but she’d been raised on Sunday school and strict sermons, including all the usual taboos about nudity and (whispered, but never said) sex. Which she’d never experienced, much to her chagrin. Between the very prestigious, but all-female university she’d attended, and her tendency to remain on the sidelines, she’d dated, but never had what she would have considered a relationship. It was one of the reasons she’d been so devastated by the cheating boyfriend that last year. He’d cheated on her to fuck someone else, which had struck at the very heart of her confidence as a woman.