drugs? What’s wrong with him?”
Moving quickly, really quickly, to Tren’s side, Cormac knelt and pulled out what looked like a black pen, running it quickly over Tren’s body. “He is not on recreational substances.”
“What are you doing?”
When Cormac glanced at her, he almost looked guilty, then he gave her a dazzling smile. “Nothing.”
“Right. What’s wrong with him?” She took a step closer, weary of the stranger but worried about Tren.
His gaze darted to her mouth, and he grinned. “He will be okay, Ms. Grant.”
Resisting the urge to wipe at her lips, she frowned, trying to adopt a stern tone of voice. “He doesn’t look okay.”
“That is because Trenzent is suffering from exhaustion. He should have rested before coming to see you, but he was too upset to sleep. He used the last of his strength to make it to your side. I volunteered to drive him because he should not be guiding any form of transport in this state. I assure you, his only desire was to see you as soon as possible. Even at the danger of his own health.”
The helpless romantic in her loved that notion, but her practical nature wasn’t so easily swayed. Something was off here. “Where was he? And why the heck would he do something as stupid as risking his life to see me?”
Cormac hesitated, then met her gaze directly. “Because he cares a great deal for you.”
“Bu-but he hardly knows me.”
“Were you worried about him?”
Unsure where he was going with this surreal conversation, and not wanting to admit that yes, she had indeed worried about him, a lot, she tried to keep them off the subject of her confused and profound feelings for the strange man sleeping deeply on her floor. “Where was he?”
“That is for Trenzent to tell you.”
She moved closer, feeling protective of Tren when he was obviously helpless. “Are you sure he doesn’t need a doctor.”
“He is merely tired. A few hours rest and he’ll be as good as new. I suspect he has not slept in days.”
“Why in the world would he do that? He is on drugs, isn’t he? I should have known. No one has that perfect of a body without chemical help. Is he on steroids? No—wait, it’s cocaine, isn’t it? I watched a documentary—”
“Ms Grant,” Cormac practically shouted. “He is not a drug addict. We have…we have important duties that take precedence over our needs.”
“Duties? What duties. You’re a bunch of male models doing a conditioning camp. Or at least that’s what you’ve told us. For all we know you could be a bunch of Russian spies sent to seduce us into being your sex slaves.”
“Russian spies?” He sighed and sat back easily on his haunches while rubbing his face. “You have had a conversation with Roxie.”
She shouldn’t be surprised that he knew who Casey’s sister was. As soon as Casey went missing Roxie came back on special leave from the National Guard to help find her. Paige had even gone with Roxie to the farmhouse in an effort to get some information on her sister and the guy she’d been seen with last, Lorn, who was ‘out of state and unavailable’. While she didn’t believe Roxie’s theory that they were a bunch of spies, there was certainly something suspicious going on over there.
Forcing back her worries, she gestured to Tren lying on her worn wood floor. “Should I get him a pillow? That doesn’t look very comfortable.”
Cormac glanced at Tren, then back to her. “Yes, that would be wonderful. Can you also get me a towel and a wet washcloth?”
“Uh, sure. I’ll be right back.”
She took one last look at Tren, willing his eyes to open so she could lose herself in their warm, silvery depths, then headed down the narrow hall to her bathroom where she grabbed a clean washcloth from beneath the sink. Her hands trembled and when she looked up into the mirror she winced. Her already sloppy ponytail had been mauled by Tren during the kiss—he seemed to enjoy touching her hair—and a light
Moving quickly, really quickly, to Tren’s side, Cormac knelt and pulled out what looked like a black pen, running it quickly over Tren’s body. “He is not on recreational substances.”
“What are you doing?”
When Cormac glanced at her, he almost looked guilty, then he gave her a dazzling smile. “Nothing.”
“Right. What’s wrong with him?” She took a step closer, weary of the stranger but worried about Tren.
His gaze darted to her mouth, and he grinned. “He will be okay, Ms. Grant.”
Resisting the urge to wipe at her lips, she frowned, trying to adopt a stern tone of voice. “He doesn’t look okay.”
“That is because Trenzent is suffering from exhaustion. He should have rested before coming to see you, but he was too upset to sleep. He used the last of his strength to make it to your side. I volunteered to drive him because he should not be guiding any form of transport in this state. I assure you, his only desire was to see you as soon as possible. Even at the danger of his own health.”
The helpless romantic in her loved that notion, but her practical nature wasn’t so easily swayed. Something was off here. “Where was he? And why the heck would he do something as stupid as risking his life to see me?”
Cormac hesitated, then met her gaze directly. “Because he cares a great deal for you.”
“Bu-but he hardly knows me.”
“Were you worried about him?”
Unsure where he was going with this surreal conversation, and not wanting to admit that yes, she had indeed worried about him, a lot, she tried to keep them off the subject of her confused and profound feelings for the strange man sleeping deeply on her floor. “Where was he?”
“That is for Trenzent to tell you.”
She moved closer, feeling protective of Tren when he was obviously helpless. “Are you sure he doesn’t need a doctor.”
“He is merely tired. A few hours rest and he’ll be as good as new. I suspect he has not slept in days.”
“Why in the world would he do that? He is on drugs, isn’t he? I should have known. No one has that perfect of a body without chemical help. Is he on steroids? No—wait, it’s cocaine, isn’t it? I watched a documentary—”
“Ms Grant,” Cormac practically shouted. “He is not a drug addict. We have…we have important duties that take precedence over our needs.”
“Duties? What duties. You’re a bunch of male models doing a conditioning camp. Or at least that’s what you’ve told us. For all we know you could be a bunch of Russian spies sent to seduce us into being your sex slaves.”
“Russian spies?” He sighed and sat back easily on his haunches while rubbing his face. “You have had a conversation with Roxie.”
She shouldn’t be surprised that he knew who Casey’s sister was. As soon as Casey went missing Roxie came back on special leave from the National Guard to help find her. Paige had even gone with Roxie to the farmhouse in an effort to get some information on her sister and the guy she’d been seen with last, Lorn, who was ‘out of state and unavailable’. While she didn’t believe Roxie’s theory that they were a bunch of spies, there was certainly something suspicious going on over there.
Forcing back her worries, she gestured to Tren lying on her worn wood floor. “Should I get him a pillow? That doesn’t look very comfortable.”
Cormac glanced at Tren, then back to her. “Yes, that would be wonderful. Can you also get me a towel and a wet washcloth?”
“Uh, sure. I’ll be right back.”
She took one last look at Tren, willing his eyes to open so she could lose herself in their warm, silvery depths, then headed down the narrow hall to her bathroom where she grabbed a clean washcloth from beneath the sink. Her hands trembled and when she looked up into the mirror she winced. Her already sloppy ponytail had been mauled by Tren during the kiss—he seemed to enjoy touching her hair—and a light
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