"What I prefer is a shower. And that means getting up."
"Would you like some help?"
"No, I can manage."
He looked skeptical but didn’t actually say anything. I blew out a breath and slowly—carefully—pushed to my feet.
Azriel rose with me, one hand out, as if ready to grab me should I fall. I pushed the sweaty strands of hair out of my face and gave him a weak smile. "See? I told you I could manage."
"I think the word for it is stubborn," he commented. "Have your shower. I will order food for you."
"Oh, will you now?" I said, not sure whether to be surprised or annoyed. "And who made you my mother?"
"No one, obviously, as that is not physically possible," he said, face as inscrutable as ever. Yet I sensed he was both amused and frustrated, and suddenly wondered if the Chi link between us was becoming strong enough that it was giving me a clearer glimpse of him.
I removed Amaya, placing the sword on the bed, then turned and carefully headed for the bathroom. A long hot shower revived me a little more, although I had scant success in scrubbing all the fibrous remnants of clothing from my skin. I was going to be pulling bits out for days.
After turning off the water, I grabbed a towel and carefully dried myself. A sudden knock at the door made me jump, but a second later the delicious scent of roast lamb invaded the room and I couldn’t help grinning. Azriel had ordered my favorite—and no surprise, given he seemed to have an all-access pass to my memories and thoughts.
I left the towel on the bath’s edge and walked out. He turned, his gaze scanning me briefly. Something flickered in his eyes—an emotion or reaction that disappeared too fast to name—then he waved a hand at the food.
"This is sufficient?"
"More than sufficient." God, there was even Coke. I drank half the bottle then grabbed a piece of lamb, munching on it as I walked across to my bag. After pulling out underwear, jeans, T-shirt, and a sweater—I skipped the bra because I really didn’t want any pressure on my newly healed ribs—I got dressed. Azriel’s gaze was a weight that heated my insides and stirred things that had no right to be stirring. Not when it came to him.
"So," he said abruptly. "This first clue—"
"Any discussion will wait until Lucian gets here." I glanced at the clock as I sat down to eat my meal. Forty minutes had passed. It was unusual for Lucian to be late for any date, let alone one that might give him a shot at the vengeance he was so hungry for. Concern stirred, but I thrust it aside. If anyone was capable of defending himself against attack, it was Lucian. Although why anyone would want to attack him, I had no idea. It wasn’t as if he’d been involved in our quest before now.