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“You in there, man?” Roark called through the door, banging on it again.
“Just a second! Fuck.” Lach set me on my feet, shoving his cock into his pants.
“Does he do this on purpose?” I grumbled.
Lach avoided my eyes as he tugged my robe over my shoulders.
I gawked. “Wait. Is he interrupting us on purpose?”
Roark’s impatient voice called through the door. Again. “We’ve got a big problem.”
Lach went to the door, opening it just far enough to glare through the crack at his penumbra. “I’m kinda busy.”
I didn’t catch the rest of what Roark said, but Lach muttered something and slammed the door shut.
“It’s your lucky day.” Lach bent and picked up the bloody shirt and his holster. He stared at the shirt for a moment before dropping it again, though he held on to the holster. “I’ve got to go.”
I cinched my robe tightly. “Right now?”
“Yes.” He opened the door and stalked into his bedroom. There was no sign of Roark. At least he was going to give us some privacy. Lach slung his holster over the armoire door.
I hung back as he riffled through the wardrobe and produced a clean shirt.
“Where?” I finally asked.
“Does it matter?” He raked his fingers through his hair and shot me a wink. “You just got saved from making the biggest mistake of your life.”
I winced as he threw my own words back at me. I deserved that, but this…
His fingers moved nimbly up his shirt buttons, leaving the top open. He reached for his holster, sliding one of the guns free. “Take this.”
I shook my head, backing up a step.
He shoved it into my palm and forced my hand to close over it. “You know how to use it now. Safety off.” He hesitated as if weighing the next bit. “If you need me, I will come. This is just insurance, princess, and it will make you feel safer.”
I inhaled sharply, but I slipped it into the pocket of my robe.
“Good girl.” He kissed my forehead. My heart stuttered as he started for the door.
“When will you be back?”
“Late.” He stopped with his hand on the knob. “Don’t wait up.”
I grabbed hold of his shirt. “What is going on? Is it the redcaps?”
“Don’t worry about them. This is nothing for you to be concerned about.” He studied me for a moment, his eyes lingering on my lips with such intensity that I flushed.
My grip on him tightened. “Don’t go.”
His hand closed over mine as he leaned in for a swift, possessive kiss. I realized it was a distraction as he pried himself free. “You hate me, remember? It’s better if it stays that way, if this thing between us…doesn’t happen.”
And then he vanished before I could tell him that I knew that.
The problem was that I didn’t fucking care.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I paced the length of our quarters, trying to decide if I should just go to bed, even though I knew I’d never be able to sleep. Not until he came back, preferably not covered in blood—his or anyone else’s. I cleaned up the bloodied mess in his bathroom, wiped down the sink, and disposed of the towels he’d ruined in a hamper. I even ate the blood apple, surprised to discover an hour later that the cut on my collarbone was now a pale, fleshy pink and the fingerprint bruises on my neck had faded.