Seriously? “You must have a Palace full of capable healers.”
“And what explanation would I give? Especially considering the fact Prince Zariffe is currently downstairs in the ballroom, giving everyone the silent treatment.” Talac stared down at his bicep, the black material of his shirt clinging wetly to his skin. “Hhmmm, I appear to be dripping. Perhaps you could just spare a towel… it’s going to be awkward, given the angle, but I suppose I could bandage it myself.”
He was definitely laying it on a bit thick, Alia rolling her eyes to the heavens. “Sit on the edge of the bed. I’ll be right back. Try not to bleed on anything.” Heading to the small adjoining room to grab Perri’s medical bag. A little disconcerted to discover upon returning to find Talac had removed his shirt. Smears of blood staining his left arm. Hurriedly Alia grabbed a dark coloured towel and a bowl of water. Cleaning the injury first was always a good place to start. She was no trained healer, but she’d dealt with enough injuries over the years out in the woods.
Determinedly focusing upon the cut. Certainly not thinking about how warm Talac’s skin was. Or how broad his bare chest was. Or the fact that his bicep was pleasingly muscular.
“Do you think it might have been Soutner?”
“Regal? Not him personally, he wouldn’t sully his hands. But… he does have several brutes masquerading as servants working for him. You know… I’m not sure a knife did this. It’s too shallow, too jagged.” She’d seen zig zagging injuries like this before.
“Yes. I see what you mean. Tearing the skin rather than slicing.”
“The man you grappled with, is it possible he had a hook for a hand?”
“I couldn’t rule it out. You know, this makes the second attempt on your life since we left Gloomenthrall.”
“Are you saying the incidents might be related? If so, then it can’t be Regal. He was genuinely shocked to see Perri and I here at the Palace.”
“Perhaps it’s just a nasty coincidence. Tonight’s incident could be Soutner’s work, or perhaps one of your competitors has taken a strong dislike to you and paid someone to do their dirty work.”
“Which makes it impossible to narrow down whom might have sent a man with a hooked hand armed with a knife after me. He got lucky, given we were walking such a distant dark pathway, away from all the party-goers. I shall see to it that I don’t wander away from the crowd in the future.”
“Doesn’t mean he didn’t stalk you first in the ballroom. With a hook for a hand and a dark mask, he would have been considered just another guest in fancy dress.”
“From now on I’ll keep one eye on the lookout for a one armed man with murder in his eyes.”
“You’re making light of this.” Talac wrinkled his nose, watching as Alia applied thick brown paste to the jagged cut on his bicep before proceeding to bind it with a bandage. “I could assign you a guard.”
“I’m quite capable of looking after myself.”
“Really?” Talac glanced down tellingly at his injury.
“Yes, really. I had a knife. If my overly eager, overly chivalrous escort hadn’t pushed me aside, I could have taken the attacker down.”
“I was protecting you.” Talac stood up, absently flexing his arm, testing the range of movement whilst glaring down at Alia.
“I don’t need protecting.”
“You’re not infallible.”
“I’m far from helpless.”
“I don’t like the idea of you getting hurt.”
“Well, I’m not too happy seeing you bleed.”
“Why are we yelling at each other?”
“I don’t know. But I can’t seem to stop.” Alia met Talac’s glare with a heated one of her own. Her heart was racing, blood all but pounding in her ears, her stomach in knots. She wanted to scream in frustration. To track down tonight’s attacker, and make him pay for hurting Talac. She wanted answers.
She wanted… she wanted Talac. Gods help her. Taking a step forward, leaning up, slamming her lips against his. His hands suddenly in her hair, tearing down Perri’s careful coiffure, roaming over Alia’s shoulders, down her back, an arm encircling her waist, sweeping her in closer still, Alia’s feet almost leaving the ground. Their lips locked together, tasting, plundering.
The feel of Talac was so satisfyingly solid under her touch. Her hands roaming over the wide expanse of his bared chest. Even more exhilarating was the urgent way in which he explored her body, eager, a little rough, which was oh so flattering. Here was a man unconcerned she was a tall woman, or that she was the Beast of Gloomenthrall. He knew the majority of her secrets now, and his lips, and the way his hands moved over her body, were telling more loudly than words that he admired, supported, and really didn’t give a damn about her past.
Talac was a canny devil, with seemingly magical hands, how else to explain how the hooks at the back of her dress parted so readily under his ministrations. Alia was proud of her body. Still, there was something about unveiling it to Talac that gave her pause. Breaking their kiss, taking a shaky half step away from him, clutching the bodice of her dress to her bosom.
“We shouldn’t.” She wasn’t capable of putting her thoughts into a more complex argument than two words right at this current moment.
