The Last Warrior (Shifters Unbound #13) - Jennifer Ashley Page 0,9

loveliest time.

Why hadn’t Lady Aisling simply taken Rhianne on a shopping trip to Paris? Letting Walther cool down and get over his disappointment?

Even if Rhianne’s father was involved—terrifying thought—his powers would be limited in the human world … Wouldn’t they?

Rhianne shivered again. She had no idea and did not want to find out.

She grabbed the soap, which had a rich, floral scent, and rubbed it all over herself once more. Her wrists were already healing—burns from her own magical fire always faded quickly. Her stomach growled as she lathered her skin. She couldn’t remember when she’d last eaten.

A bottle of bath oil stood on a shelf beside the tub. Rhianne was happy her mother had taught her English, so she could read the words on the label, though it was also in French. Rhianne opened the bottle and dribbled the oil into the water. More florals overlaid with spice, not too heavy, drifted to her. The lady of the house, Jasmine, had good taste.

Rhianne closed her eyes, but too many images flashed behind her eyelids, so she opened them again. More shivering, though the water was plenty warm.

She pressed her fingertips to her temples, massaging the skin. “Get over it, Rhianne,” she said in her own language. “Shake it off. It’s just Walther the slug. He can’t help being slimy.”

Soft whispers answered her words, or maybe it was the breeze outside the window. Warm air touched her, bringing with it the fragrance of roses.

She didn’t remember opening the window. Or had it already been open when she’d come in? She couldn’t recall.

Letting out a long breath, Rhianne hoisted herself out of the tub and reached for one of the large, soft towels on a nearby rod. She dried her skin, wrapped herself in the biggest towel, and made her careful way to the door. The oil made her feet slick on the tile floor.

She opened the door a crack. Ben was nowhere in sight, but a pile of clothing lay outside on the carpet, folded neatly. Rhianne snatched up the garments and slammed the door.

The clothes were odd but fairly simple. Leggings, a tunic with printing on it, and a short coat of the same cloth as the leggings. The printing on the thin tunic said: Ç’est chaud. Rhianne understood the French words but had no idea why someone would print them on a piece of clothing.

There was also a smaller garment, pink and lacy, that was meant to go on under the leggings. Such a pretty thing to be hidden under the clothing, but she knew what lingerie was.

The shoes Ben had left were interesting. Three different pairs, presumably so she’d find a size that fit her. Rhianne chose ones made of cloth with highly cushioned soles. They had no lacings, only tabs that stuck to the shoe and made a tearing sound when she pulled them off.

Once Rhianne had dressed, she braided and tied her damp hair with a stretchy band she found in the cupboard. Her stomach rumbled again. She needed food.

She padded out of the bathroom to the long upstairs hall. The staircase lay to her right, but many other doors lined the hall to her left.

The cooking smells coming from the left clinched it. Rhianne followed her nose to an open doorway, beyond which was a large, sunny room. A dining table filled a niche in a bay window, with benches on the window side and chairs on the table’s opposite end.

Ben stood at what she guessed was a stove. It had a flat surface and no fire she could see, but a pot on it bubbled, and something in a frying pan sizzled. The rest of the room was taken up with long rows of cabinets, counters equally as long, and a worktable filled with dishes and foodstuffs.

“Feeling better?” Ben asked. “At least cleaner?”

“Cleaner, yes. Please thank Mistress Jasmine for her hospitality.”

Ben grunted something that sounded like a laugh. “Yeah, I’ll do that. Hungry?”

“Yes. Very. Do you have golden bread?”

“I don’t know what that is, but you’re welcome to look around.” Ben indicated the counter full of food and another tall cabinet with metal doors. The cabinet hummed.

Rhianne moved to the counter. “Golden bread has honey and seeds in it. Sometimes raisins if the chef has plump ones.”

“Sounds good, but I guarantee we don’t have anything like that.”

Rhianne found a transparent bag with what appeared to be bread inside it, but it was pure white and smelled unpleasant. Also very squishy, she realized when