Sworn to the Shadow God by Ruby Dixon

Author:Ruby Dixon [Dixon, Ruby]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: www.rubydixon.com
Published: 2020-02-13T16:00:00+00:00

43

He doesn’t answer, just steps forward and brushes past me, going into our room. He sits on the edge of the bed—the only place to sit—and watches me as I shut the door behind us.

I hesitate. With Rhagos in the room, it feels like any remaining space has just been swallowed up into his orbit. He dominates the small chamber, and no matter where I step, I feel like I’m about to get in his face. “Did you bathe yourself?”

“No.”

I make a sigh of relief. “Good. No one should see your back, just in case it reminds them that they’re supposed to be offing you. That little blonde might be all too happy to help you along. I don’t want to wake up to find her stabbing me in my sleep.”

His mouth quirks in amusement. “Little blonde?”

“Yeah, your oracle. You know the one.” I bat my lashes and fake an adoring look.

“I do?” He shrugs. “They are all not faceless to me.”

That makes me feel a little better. I climb into my bed, sitting across from him, my legs tucked under me. I’m acutely aware that I’m not wearing a bra or underwear, and that he’s probably not, either. It’s not like I haven’t seen him naked a jillion times before…yet everything today feels curiously intimate.

We gaze at each other in silence for a long moment, and then I gesture at the table, where my comb has been thoughtfully left out for me. “Can you hand me that?”

He does, and our fingertips brush.

My face goes red again, and I start to drag the comb through my hair, wincing as it gets constantly snarled. “So tell me about these shears. Have you heard of them before?”

He shrugs, and then holds his hand out. “Can I comb your hair?”

I blink in surprise. “Why?”

“Because it looks like it does not hurt when you do that. I will not be gentle.”

At his words, my belly clenches, hot and low. We’re just talking about grooming, I remind my hormones. Nothing else. “Are you sure?” I ask. “I can do it. And you don’t even know how to bathe yourself.”

“I did not figure it out. I will not figure this out.” He takes the comb from my hands and arches an eyebrow. “I cannot be any worse than you, can I?”

He has a point. I shrug and turn around on the bed, presenting him with my back and the tangle of my wet hair. I tense my body, waiting for the first snag of the comb, but he starts near the bottom of my hair and begins to slowly and carefully detangle it, and he never pulls.

“You’re pretty good at that,” I point out after a few moments.

“It requires no patience,” he murmurs, carefully moving the comb through a section of my hair. “Something you have a lot of.”

I chuckle at that. “I’ve never been the most patient of people, no. My strength is in jumping into things with a hundred and fifty percent enthusiasm, and thinking about the consequences later.

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