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“Oh.”Why not just start the fire,she thought.

And as if he heard her, he said, “You always hated a fire at night because the light woke you.”

She did get her best sleep in total darkness.And did he hear that thought?She was sure she didn’t send it to him.

He smiled. “Yes.”

Her cheeks warmed. “You lied. You can hear my thoughts all the time, can’t you?”

“I didn’t lie. There are times when you unconsciously let me in. It’s when you feel… comfortable with me that I can pick up on your thoughts. When you want me to connect with you, at least that’s how it was before.”

Is that true?she wondered.Do I want to feel connected to him?

He smiled even wider, bringing out his unbearably attractive dimple.Unconsciously you must.

Well, my guard is up now.

He chuckled.Is it? So you’re not thinking about what I’d look like naked in your bed?

Layala scoffed and turned away. “No, I’m certainly not thinking that.” But at his suggestion the thought came unbidden, the image of him stretched out on her bed, nothing but smooth bare skin and muscle.

I have tattoos across the “V” of my hips. Do you remember what they are?he silently asked.

She nibbled on her lower lip. Two halves of a crown and in the center in bold script he’d tattooed in black ink “KING”. She knew he was trying to get her to think of his body or other parts of him just south of those particular tattoos.Bloody god of mischief.

You do.

So, what if I do?

You used to lightly trace the letters with your fingertips. You knew it turned me on, but I don’t think you knew just how much.

Layala imagined lying on the bed now, the two of them bare skinned, while she brushed her fingers across all his tattoos, memorizing every inch of him.She cleared her throat and quickly changed the subject. “Where did you go yesterday? Presco went looking. When you didn’t come home, we thought you might have gotten yourself into trouble.”

He hopped off the bed and started for the door. “I’ll show you.”

Chapter38

LAYALA

With a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, Layala followed Hel down the stairs. He turned and stepped into the kitchen. On the woodblock counter sat a sack of flour, a block of butter, a jar of milk, salt, a pot of honey, and even a small bag labeled “sugar”.

“Where did you get all this?” She smiled, realizing this was why he’d disappeared.

“In the town over from the general store. You’ve been complaining that you wanted more variety and I thought I’d make you my famous scones for breakfast.”

Layala grinned even wider. “You have famous scones?”

“Oh, yes.” He grabbed a bowl out of the cupboard and then started by pulling the strings on the flour sack.

“For some reason, and I can’t imagine why,” she drawled, “you don’t strike me as a baker.”

He chuckled. “I’m a fabulous baker. It was a hobby of mine, but it’s been a while so hopefully I still remember. You’ll have to be the judge.”

“Alright.” Layala pulled up a stool and sat at the edge of the counter block. The black wood-burning oven suddenly roared to life. Soon the kitchen would warm up and she wouldn’t need to hold the blanket so snuggly. “Why did you go to sleep for four hundred years waiting for me? Wouldn’t you have gotten just as strong with the time while awake?”

A scoop of flour went into the bowl. “I made myself unkillable while I slept, and it was the only way. Awake, there was a chance I could be assassinated, and I was determined not to have to go through another life. It was the goddess Ellora’s idea. I found a way to contact her with the stone and scepter. So, I slept and waited for you and War.” Butter plopped into the bowl next and a puff of white splattered across his navy shirt. He cursed under his breath and swiped his hand down to brush it off, only making it worse.

“Were you lonely?” Four hundred years was a long time to spend in a dream world but then again maybe it went by in a blink.