fell silent again.
Darci glanced at Týr, who shrugged a massive shoulder. Did Blaéz mean her attackers? She’d heard the three men Blaéz had flung out of the car were in the hospital with multiple broken bones. She wasn't a violent person, but it made her feel heaps better to know Blaéz had hurt them. At least they wouldn’t come after her.
“And for the next act,” Týr said, pulling her gaze to him. He unscrewed the cap from the opaque bottle and held it out to Blaéz. “Here. Think of it as fine whiskey.”
Blaéz’s gaze fired open in irritation. “Keep that shit away from me.”
“This should be fun,” Týr muttered. “Okay. Your call, Celt. Since you’ll be laid up for several days without this, guess I'm staying — you know, to keep an eye on you and all that. I'm sure Darci would love my company—”
With a terse snarl, Blaéz pushed up on an elbow and snatched the bottle with a shaky hand. For a man weakened from his injuries and blood loss, he sure moved fast. Grinning, Týr winked at her.
Darci couldn’t help but smile at Týr’s devious methods. She turned to Blaéz and froze, meeting his searing stare, his features rigid like she’d done something wrong.
Because she’d shared a smile with Týr?
His expression tight, Blaéz swallowed some of the brown liquid and grimaced, but his gaze never left her. A surge of heat spread across her face at that possessive look. Glancing away, Darci took the bottle before it slipped from his unsteady hand. She screwed the top back on, set it aside, and pushed to her feet. “Will that help him?” she asked Týr.
“Absolutely.” He stared at Blaéz for a long moment. “You okay, man? You're sure not acting yourself.”
Blaéz scowled. “I drank the crap. Now leave me the hell alone — wait.”
“Make up your mind, Celt.” Týr eyebrows wiggled suggestively. “You want me or not?”
“Piss off. There’s a tear in LES. Dagan’s covering it.”
A tear in Les? Whatever that meant, it wiped the amusement off Týr’s face. “I’ll notify the others.” He glanced at her. “Call if you need me.”
She nodded.
Seconds later, his footsteps echoed as he ran down the wooden stairs.
Darci could make little sense of that odd conversation. She turned to Blaéz, but his eyes were shut.
Picking up the ruined tee from the floor, she dropped it on her dressing table to get rid of later then made quick work of cleaning the room of the soiled gauze and stuff. She came back to the bed, and about to draw the sheet over Blaéz, she paused. Those boots would have to go. He wouldn’t be comfortable sleeping with them, and the belt, too…
***
Blaéz stilled when he felt Darci lean over him, then her hands fiddled with his belt. He had no idea where she was going with this — he didn't care — he was starving for her touch. As she pulled his belt free, her fingers brushed his stomach, his jaw clenched, and a shudder rippled through him.
“I'm sorry, did I hurt you?” she asked. A soft clank of the buckle sounded as she set his belt down. “I just wanted to make you comfortable.”
He shook his head, having her so close, his body thundered into overdrive, his hunger for her growing. His erection strained his leathers. Hell, he could do little about the raging hard-on he sported. With her so close, that fucker wasn’t going to go down any time soon.
She fiddled with his boots, then she tugged, followed by a yank… harder this time. A low feminine growl escaped her as she fought to free him from his footwear.
It made him smile, something he hadn’t done naturally in eons. By the heavens, to have her caring for him, it made the ice in his barren chest melt a little.
A thick haze filled his head and his eyelids grew heavier. Why the hell wasn’t the potion working? The weakness should be easing. Instead, sleep tugged at him. He wrestled through the fog in his mind and tried to think. The potion shouldn’t knock him out…
Son-of-a-bitch!
Darci glanced at Týr, who shrugged a massive shoulder. Did Blaéz mean her attackers? She’d heard the three men Blaéz had flung out of the car were in the hospital with multiple broken bones. She wasn't a violent person, but it made her feel heaps better to know Blaéz had hurt them. At least they wouldn’t come after her.
“And for the next act,” Týr said, pulling her gaze to him. He unscrewed the cap from the opaque bottle and held it out to Blaéz. “Here. Think of it as fine whiskey.”
Blaéz’s gaze fired open in irritation. “Keep that shit away from me.”
“This should be fun,” Týr muttered. “Okay. Your call, Celt. Since you’ll be laid up for several days without this, guess I'm staying — you know, to keep an eye on you and all that. I'm sure Darci would love my company—”
With a terse snarl, Blaéz pushed up on an elbow and snatched the bottle with a shaky hand. For a man weakened from his injuries and blood loss, he sure moved fast. Grinning, Týr winked at her.
Darci couldn’t help but smile at Týr’s devious methods. She turned to Blaéz and froze, meeting his searing stare, his features rigid like she’d done something wrong.
Because she’d shared a smile with Týr?
His expression tight, Blaéz swallowed some of the brown liquid and grimaced, but his gaze never left her. A surge of heat spread across her face at that possessive look. Glancing away, Darci took the bottle before it slipped from his unsteady hand. She screwed the top back on, set it aside, and pushed to her feet. “Will that help him?” she asked Týr.
“Absolutely.” He stared at Blaéz for a long moment. “You okay, man? You're sure not acting yourself.”
Blaéz scowled. “I drank the crap. Now leave me the hell alone — wait.”
“Make up your mind, Celt.” Týr eyebrows wiggled suggestively. “You want me or not?”
“Piss off. There’s a tear in LES. Dagan’s covering it.”
A tear in Les? Whatever that meant, it wiped the amusement off Týr’s face. “I’ll notify the others.” He glanced at her. “Call if you need me.”
She nodded.
Seconds later, his footsteps echoed as he ran down the wooden stairs.
Darci could make little sense of that odd conversation. She turned to Blaéz, but his eyes were shut.
Picking up the ruined tee from the floor, she dropped it on her dressing table to get rid of later then made quick work of cleaning the room of the soiled gauze and stuff. She came back to the bed, and about to draw the sheet over Blaéz, she paused. Those boots would have to go. He wouldn’t be comfortable sleeping with them, and the belt, too…
***
Blaéz stilled when he felt Darci lean over him, then her hands fiddled with his belt. He had no idea where she was going with this — he didn't care — he was starving for her touch. As she pulled his belt free, her fingers brushed his stomach, his jaw clenched, and a shudder rippled through him.
“I'm sorry, did I hurt you?” she asked. A soft clank of the buckle sounded as she set his belt down. “I just wanted to make you comfortable.”
He shook his head, having her so close, his body thundered into overdrive, his hunger for her growing. His erection strained his leathers. Hell, he could do little about the raging hard-on he sported. With her so close, that fucker wasn’t going to go down any time soon.
She fiddled with his boots, then she tugged, followed by a yank… harder this time. A low feminine growl escaped her as she fought to free him from his footwear.
It made him smile, something he hadn’t done naturally in eons. By the heavens, to have her caring for him, it made the ice in his barren chest melt a little.
A thick haze filled his head and his eyelids grew heavier. Why the hell wasn’t the potion working? The weakness should be easing. Instead, sleep tugged at him. He wrestled through the fog in his mind and tried to think. The potion shouldn’t knock him out…
Son-of-a-bitch!
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