she couldn’t get hurt in the process.
“Just out of curiosity, how many shape-shifters are there?”
So, he had resumed the interrogation . “One hundred and twenty-eight, at one time,” she replied. “Now I think I am the last one.” The words of Elios echoed in her mind, and she added without realizing, “I was told I would be the last one.”
She looked up at him and grew angry at the pity in his eyes. “Not that we were social race anyway. I’m the last one because I am the strongest, the most cunning, the deadliest of my race.” She lifted her lips and felt the cold air touch her fangs. “And I won’t disappear without a fight.”
His pity changed to fear. “I don’t doubt you there.”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, satisfied that she’d pushed him away from the subject. “Do you have a book I can read so I have something to fill my time while my leg heals?”
“You can read?”
Anger flared deep within her. “Just because I look like some malformed beast doesn’t mean I am completely without higher intelligence! For your information, I can read—several languages in fact—as well as write. I suppose you would like to put that in your notes, too?”
He swallowed hard. “Well, if—if you don’t mind.”
She yanked the book he offered her out of his hands and sighed. It took too much energy to stay angry with him. He caught her when she tried to stand and steadied her as she crossed the room back to her bed. Her head throbbed as much as her leg by this point. He retreated behind his desk and scribbled furiously, no doubt analyzing every piece of their conversation. She stared at the pages of the book, unable to concentrate on the words in front of her. If every day was going to be as intense as this, it would be a long two weeks.
CHAPTER 7
Gregor tapped his quill on the scroll. He’d enjoyed Ranealya's company over the last few days, despite her occasional outbursts of ferocious sarcasm. Unfortunately, her wounds were healing faster than he had anticipated. He suspected she’d disappear as quickly as before once she had the strength to do so.
For now, though, she sat on the bed, reading a book of Elvish poetry. Her long legs stretched out in front of her, and he visually traced their curves from the tips of her toes, along her shapely calves, past her knees, along her thighs to where they disappeared under the short tunic she conceded to wear when he was present. His body grew warm at the slight curve of her breasts peeking through the opening of the tunic.
He diverted his attention to the window before she caught him staring at her. It was snowing again. He tried to focus on that, but his eyes found their way back to her bare legs again. This time, however, the soft brown fur that covered her body had been replaced by smooth ivory flesh. He squirmed in his chair and longed to touch them, to feel the warm skin under his hands.
“See something you like?” she drawled, tearing him from his thoughts. She smirked as she stretched, flexing her body in a cat-like arch.
“I—I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he mumbled and shuffled his papers, making certain to conceal his face behind them. His trousers were beginning to feel too tight.
She laughed, and the brown fur rippled down her body, replacing the delicious ivory skin. For once, he was glad of her animal-like appearance. If she was a human, he'd never get anything done. As it was, the studies were already suffering. He spent hours each day watching her, noting subtle findings like the way the feathers woven in her wild hair glistened in the sunlight. He kept telling himself that his interest in her was purely academic, that he was so fascinated by her ever changing eyes because she was the last shape-shifter, and he needed to document everything he could about her before she left the sanctuary of his lands and the magic that protected them. He refused to admit that he
“Just out of curiosity, how many shape-shifters are there?”
So, he had resumed the interrogation . “One hundred and twenty-eight, at one time,” she replied. “Now I think I am the last one.” The words of Elios echoed in her mind, and she added without realizing, “I was told I would be the last one.”
She looked up at him and grew angry at the pity in his eyes. “Not that we were social race anyway. I’m the last one because I am the strongest, the most cunning, the deadliest of my race.” She lifted her lips and felt the cold air touch her fangs. “And I won’t disappear without a fight.”
His pity changed to fear. “I don’t doubt you there.”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, satisfied that she’d pushed him away from the subject. “Do you have a book I can read so I have something to fill my time while my leg heals?”
“You can read?”
Anger flared deep within her. “Just because I look like some malformed beast doesn’t mean I am completely without higher intelligence! For your information, I can read—several languages in fact—as well as write. I suppose you would like to put that in your notes, too?”
He swallowed hard. “Well, if—if you don’t mind.”
She yanked the book he offered her out of his hands and sighed. It took too much energy to stay angry with him. He caught her when she tried to stand and steadied her as she crossed the room back to her bed. Her head throbbed as much as her leg by this point. He retreated behind his desk and scribbled furiously, no doubt analyzing every piece of their conversation. She stared at the pages of the book, unable to concentrate on the words in front of her. If every day was going to be as intense as this, it would be a long two weeks.
CHAPTER 7
Gregor tapped his quill on the scroll. He’d enjoyed Ranealya's company over the last few days, despite her occasional outbursts of ferocious sarcasm. Unfortunately, her wounds were healing faster than he had anticipated. He suspected she’d disappear as quickly as before once she had the strength to do so.
For now, though, she sat on the bed, reading a book of Elvish poetry. Her long legs stretched out in front of her, and he visually traced their curves from the tips of her toes, along her shapely calves, past her knees, along her thighs to where they disappeared under the short tunic she conceded to wear when he was present. His body grew warm at the slight curve of her breasts peeking through the opening of the tunic.
He diverted his attention to the window before she caught him staring at her. It was snowing again. He tried to focus on that, but his eyes found their way back to her bare legs again. This time, however, the soft brown fur that covered her body had been replaced by smooth ivory flesh. He squirmed in his chair and longed to touch them, to feel the warm skin under his hands.
“See something you like?” she drawled, tearing him from his thoughts. She smirked as she stretched, flexing her body in a cat-like arch.
“I—I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he mumbled and shuffled his papers, making certain to conceal his face behind them. His trousers were beginning to feel too tight.
She laughed, and the brown fur rippled down her body, replacing the delicious ivory skin. For once, he was glad of her animal-like appearance. If she was a human, he'd never get anything done. As it was, the studies were already suffering. He spent hours each day watching her, noting subtle findings like the way the feathers woven in her wild hair glistened in the sunlight. He kept telling himself that his interest in her was purely academic, that he was so fascinated by her ever changing eyes because she was the last shape-shifter, and he needed to document everything he could about her before she left the sanctuary of his lands and the magic that protected them. He refused to admit that he
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