“Good.” There was no lock, so Zaxe took the second chair and jammed it beneath the door handle.
“All things considered, they’re being hospitable.” And that surprised her. “I thought this would be a camp for outcasts. I thought Helldrick would be here.”
“And your brother?” Zaxe flipped back the lid of one of the baskets and pulled out several lengths of toweling and two cleaning cloths. Hefting the other two, he brought them to the table.
“And Esau.” She rubbed her fingers against her temple. Worry about him was eating at her. Some would say he was an adult at eighteen. The gods knew she’d been supporting herself and him at that age, but she’d sheltered as much as possible. Maybe that was a mistake, but she’d wanted him to have some of the childhood she’d lacked. Even with all she’d done, he’d still grown up being spit at and looked down on for his mixed blood. Esau was always trying to prove himself—to her and the entire neighborhood. It was all too easy to see him heading off with stars in his eyes, figuring he’d make some kind of big score and come home triumphant.
“Would your father harm him?”
It was a legitimate question, and one she couldn’t truly answer. “I want to say no, but there’s no telling. If Helldrick’s life was on the line, he’d toss Esau to the wolves, but I’m more concerned about him getting my brother involved in one of his schemes. He seems to make money and walk away. Many of his associates don’t. At least that’s what I’ve heard and what my mother told me.”
“You don’t see him?”
Bitterness tinged her laugh. “That’s an understatement. I’ve seen him a handful of times in my life, and that was mostly after Esau was born. Sons are important.” Her eyes burned, but that was only due to exhaustion. She’d given up caring or wanting something she’d never have a long time ago.
“What did your mother tell you about him?” His voice was gentle, but this was beginning to feel like an interrogation.
She didn’t talk about her mother. It made her stomach hurt and left a sour taste in her mouth. “My mother lived in a world of her own. She made up stories about Helldrick being away on important business, about him wanting to be there. It was all lies.” Zahra Jerman had been beautiful and delicate, a fragile creature easily crushed. Helldrick had seen her and taken her. She’d never been sure if her mother had actually wanted her father or if she’d believed she didn’t deserve any better after the fact. An orphan with no one to protect her, she’d been easy prey for a man like him. Her stories had been her way of dealing with having two mixed children out of wedlock.
Zaxe laid out the rest of the provisions. The water flask was like a gift from the gods. She grabbed it and fought the urge to guzzle, making herself sip so she didn’t get sick. “So good.”
“You’re dehydrated.” Frowning, he placed his hand on her forehead. “Warm, too.”
“My skin isn’t as dark as yours.” As a half-breed, she didn’t have as much natural protection against the brutal sun. Even with her headscarf and sun blocker, she’d overheated. She blamed her messed-up biology on Helldrick. Something else to place at his door.
Zaxe dipped one of the cloths in the water, squeezed out the excess, and pressed it against her face. Her skin drank it in, the coolness welcome.
“That’s so good.” She took the cloth from him and rubbed it over her face and neck.
“You should wash first and change. You’ll feel better.”
“I can’t strip down with you here.” Staying together made sense. Stripping down with him in the room? Not happening. Not only was it embarrassing, but no man had ever seen her naked. She also wasn’t stupid. If she removed her clothes, they’d end up in bed. That wasn’t arrogance or overconfidence. The heat had been simmering between them since they’d first met. One tiny spark would make it explode.
“I promise not to watch.” His black eyes twinkled with mischief, making him appear younger and even more appealing.
“Why don’t I believe you?” One of them had to stay strong. Or did she? Gods, the lack of food and sleep was making it almost impossible to think straight.
“You can trust me.” All humor had fled. He was deadly serious.
“I know.” Needing the connection, she held out her hand. He took it and pulled her to her feet.
“Let me take care of you.”
She swallowed heavily. It wasn’t fair. This was all she’d ever wanted out of life—someone to care for her, to put her first. Why now? Why under these circumstances? Was she going to let it pass her by because she was afraid to take a chance?
When she tugged, he released her and took a step back. Zaxe wasn’t like most men. He wouldn’t push, wouldn’t try to get her to change her mind. If she told him to, he’d turn his back and stare at a corner until she was done.
I trust him.
It went all the way to her bones. Physically, he’d never harm her. Emotionally? There were no guarantees. But she, more than most, knew life didn’t come with any.
She unclasped her cloak, swinging it off and draping it over the back of her chair. A muscle in his jaw tightened. The pulse in his neck pounded. His cloak covered most of his body, but there was no doubt he was hard beneath.
His eyes held hers captive as she unbuttoned her top by feel. When she slipped the fabric down her arms, he let his gaze wander over her torso and arms before returning to the band around her breasts.
“It’s easier,” she explained.
“I imagine it is.” He stroked his fingers down the curve of her jaw and over her neck, coming to rest at the top of the wrapping. Beneath it, her breasts swelled, her nipples hardened. “Men’s clothes or women’s. It doesn’t matter.”
“No?” Her breath hitched as his finger stroked down the center and back up again. If she didn’t remove the band soon, it might snap.
“No, you’re beautiful.” He teased the delicate skin beneath her arm, raising goose bumps. When the room spun around her, she locked her knees. No way was she going to pass out and miss this.
“Only you think so.” All her life she’d fallen short of the standards of beauty on her world. Her skin was too pale. Her hair was such an odd coloring with the red and black. And her eyes were unlike anyone else’s, except for her brother. And somehow it was more acceptable for a male to have green eyes.
“Then they are fools.” He leaned down, his breath a warm puff against her mouth. “I may be many things, Jamaeh, but I am no fool.”
****
Her lips tasted sweet like honey, warm and welcoming. He sank into them, savoring the moment. It astonished him that she doubted her beauty. Did prejudice run that deep here or was she oblivious to the signals men sent out when they wanted a woman? He’d lay odds it was a bit of both. While some would look down on her, others would covet her for her uniqueness.
“You’re tired.” He ran his tongue over her bottom lip before nipping at it. She gave a short gasp and grabbed his shoulders. Gods, how he loved her hands on him.
“Not that tired.”
In the midst of a mission, she made him smile, made him feel. It should be impossible. He was too well trained, too focused and determined.