A lesson that had only been reinforced during her brief stint as a disciple of the Dark Lord.
She didn’t want or need anyone to be fussing over her.
She grimaced. Okay. Maybe in her deepest dreams she’d imagined a future where she found a man who could see beyond her training as a witch in the dark arts, and her desperate decision to gain protection from those who worshipped evil, and even her mongrel blood.
But that man would never be Roke.
No.
He was looking for some perfect Xena warrior who he could introduce to his clan with pride.
Not a tarnished witch who was universally reviled.
That unexplainable pain once again slashed through her, and with a jerky motion she rose to her feet to toss the disposable plates into a small trash can.
Instantly Roke was at her side, his expression filled with a concern that threatened to tug at her heart.
Stop it, Sally, she silently warned herself.
It wasn’t real.
None of this was real.
“You didn’t finish,” he chided softly.
“Roke, I’m not a turkey that needs to be stuffed for Thanksgiving.”
“You’ve burned through a lot of energy,” he said, his fingers gently tracing the shell of her ear. “You need to replenish your strength.”
She took an awkward step away, refusing to meet the stunning beauty of his silver eyes.
“Any more replenishing and I won’t fit into my pants.”
His gaze slid down her body to linger on the tight fit of her jeans across her slender hips.
“I’ll give your mother credit for following the Boy Scout motto,” he muttered in absent tones.
She licked her dry lips.
Had the room shrunk?
Suddenly he seemed to fill every inch of it, his frigid power pulsing through the air to brush her skin with an enticing caress.
“What motto?” she managed to ask.
He stepped forward, his gaze returning to her guarded expression.
“Always be prepared.”
She made a sound of disgust. Oh yes. Her mother had been all about “an ounce of prevention.”
Except when it came to getting pregnant.
Maybe if the powerful witch had done more thorough research on Sally’s father before hopping into his bed, Sally wouldn’t have spent her life running from people who wanted her dead.
Her futile broodings were shattered as he cupped her cheek in his hand, his thumb tracing the curve of her lower lip.
The cool touch sent shockwaves of pleasure zinging through her body, but this time she didn’t pull away.