what appeared to be a ra y old sheet around her as she hurried to him.
"Oh, Harper, Stephanie. Oh thank God!" she cried. "I've been so worried."
Despite himself, Harper took a quick step back at her approach, but then caught himself and forced himself to stand s ll. He also stopped breathing, however, holding his breath in a desperate bid to keep from gagging as the woman he loved threw herself at him and hugged him.
Drina held him ghtly and for a very, very long me. At least it seemed a very long me to him as he con nued to hold his breath, but then she finally pulled pack to peer up at him happily. Her smile was wide, her eyes glowing . . . until she saw his face. Concern immediately replaced her relief.
"You're terribly flush," she said with a frown. "Have you had enough blood? Maybe you should lie down for a bit. Are you - Harper, you're turning purple!"
"I'm fine." He sighed on an exhale and pulled her to his chest again so that she wouldn't see his face as he inhaled another breath. Dear God, he thought as the toxic fumes wa ed from the love of his life to fill his mouth and lungs. Oh Good Lord in heaven, he moaned inwardly, barely managing not to whimper aloud.
"I wanted to come up - " Drina began, and then paused as she peered past him. "Stephanie? What are you doing way over - Oh."
She deflated like a punctured balloon, and then flushed with mor fica on and - avoiding Harper's eyes -
scrurried quickly back to her stool. She crawled back onto it, her shoulders slumped and every line of her body speaking of misery. Her voice was much subdued when she said, "I'm glad you're both all right, and that you came down so I could see for myself. You can both go back upstairs now with the others, though, if you like. I understand."
Harper turned to see that Stephanie had moved over to a desk holding a computer, about as far as she could get and stay in the room. He supposed that and the girl's dismayed expression were what had recalled Drina to the matter of her scent.
Sighing, he glanced back to Drina, and then forced himself to move across the room to join her. With every step, he assured himself that his senses would deaden to the scent quickly, and he could bear it ll they did. Still, he couldn't help holding his breath as he approached and stood in front of her.
"What - ?" she began when he appeared before her. But when Harper simply caught her upper arms and pulled her against his chest, she fell against him with a li le sniffle that told him how much it meant to her. He suspected his Drina did not cry o en, if at all. A weepy woman would never have passed for a male pirate, and he doubted gladiators could afford the luxury of weeping, either. Harper heard her inhale and glanced down curiously to see that she had her nose pressed to his chest and was trying to inhale his scent. He wondered that she could smell anything over her own stench, so wasn't terribly surprised when Drina sighed miserably, and mourned, "I can't smell you. I love your scent, but I can't smell you."
Harper didn't have a clue what to say to that, and really, speaking would mean releasing the air in his lungs and taking in another. He desperately wanted to avoid doing that un l absolutely necessary, so was grateful for the distraction when the door beside them suddenly opened, and Anders entered, bags in hand.
Drina was out of his arms and on Anders at once. "Did you get everything?"
"Dear God, woman! Get back. You stink," Anders barked.
Harper scowled at the man. It was no more than Drina was doing, however. He wasn't surprised her moment of sniffly misery had passed and her naturally fiery nature had reasserted itself. This was more the Alexandrina Argenis he knew.
Eyes narrowing, Drina moved closer instead of ge ng back as Anders had ordered, and then hissed up at the Russian. "And you're the most miserable SOB I've ever encountered, so I guess we all have our crosses to bear." She snatched the bags from him, and then turned away adding, "The difference is I'm about to bathe away this smell, but when I come down, you'll still