“My hoard —” Raluca began.
“We can fetch it tomorrow.” Nick didn’t move away to go to his own room, but stood over her as she sank down to the bed.
Stood guard over her, she realized. He didn’t make a show of it, but by now she had noticed that he always placed himself between her and any possible danger, with her unguarded side by something relatively safe — a wall, perhaps, or a room he’d already checked. His intense green eyes never stopped taking in everything around them, watching for danger.
“I’m fine,” she said. “You can go to your own room. I’ll lock the door.”
He shook his head. “No, don’t lock it. If I have to get in fast, I don’t want to waste seconds breaking down the door. Don’t worry, if it’s not an emergency I’ll knock first.”
“But...” Then she realized: the other room of the suite was for him. Of course he wouldn’t leave her alone; of course he’d taken the room with the door to the corridor, where danger might come from. Her door led only to his room. “I know you will knock.”
He shot her a look. Raluca gritted her teeth: he’d obviously figured out her mistake. She seemed forever doomed to have him catch her being naïve.
“Good night,” she said firmly.
“Night. Call me if you need anything.” Nick closed the door between their rooms.
Raluca quickly made her bedtime toilette, by now used to doing such things by herself rather than with the help of her maids, then went to bed. She was so tired, she expected to fall asleep instantly.
Instead, she tossed and turned, preoccupied with thoughts of the man in the room next door. The door that wasn’t even locked. Had he gotten undressed? At some point while she was naked, had he been naked too? Or was he still sitting up, guarding her?
She cursed herself for not stripping him naked while she’d had the chance. He’d have let her. He’d clearly have done anything at all. And now she’d forever lost her chance to see his hard nude body, let alone to have it pressed against hers.
Raluca squirmed, wet and throbbing between the thighs. But she didn’t dare touch herself. Nick might hear the sounds of her private pleasure with his finely tuned werewolf senses. She glared in the dark, toward the general direction of his room. If he was pleasuring himself, she’d never know. Her dragon abilities did not include enhanced hearing or smell, and Nick wore no jewelry. If he wore precious metal, she might be able to sense its movement, though she wasn’t sure if she could do so from a room away.
We must gift him with silver, her dragon said unexpectedly. An earring or necklace for everyday, perhaps. And when we are alone, we could wind a long silver chain around his naked body.
The picture her dragon sent her made Raluca blush hotly, and sent even more heat lower down.
We’re not gifting Nick with anything, she snapped silently. He wouldn’t take a... a bacon-wrapped hotdog from me!
Undeterred, her dragon replied, You must find out what jewelry men wear in America.
None, Raluca retorted. Then, remembering Hal, she said, Just wedding rings.
Her dragon gave a snort. All humans adorn themselves.
Shaking her head, Raluca turned over and tried to banish thoughts of Nick, of naked Nick, of naked Nick wrapped in silver chains, of Nick laughing as she rose to his challenge of Big Bacon. It was a long time before she fell asleep.
***
The next morning, Raluca awoke to bars of sunlight across her face. She had slept late. When she went to the shower, she found that the borrowed clothes and nightgown she’d worn yesterday had been laundered and were folded on the table, along with the bulletproof vest and several other sets of clothing and shoes, none of which she’d bought the day before.
A piece of paper lay atop them. In slashing capitals that she knew had to be Nick’s writing before she even got to the signature, she read,
HAL FOUND A FORMAL BALL FOR TOMORROW. DINNER AND DANCING. IT’S WHITE TIE, WHATEVER THAT MEANS. DON’T WORRY, RAFA’S GETTING MY OUTFIT. I BET YOU ALREADY HAVE SOMETHING, BUT IF NOT, WE CAN GO BACK TO THE FREE COCKTAIL SHOP.
DESTINY DROPPED BY WITH CLOTHES FOR YOU. WANT TO DO MORE AMERICAN THINGS TODAY? WEAR ONE OF HER OUTFITS OR YOU’LL GET FUNNY LOOKS. OR WE COULD GO TO A MUSEUM OR SOME OTHER CLASSY THING. YOUR CHOICE.
NICK
Raluca showered, then inspected the clothing. Apart from the fatigues and undergarments, Destiny had provided two business suits, one in blue and white, one in gray and red, along with polished black pumps that would go with both, one set of blue jeans with a red and pink floral print blouse, a pink cloth jacket, and strappy red sandals, and one set of black jeans with a white tank top, a black leather jacket with multiple straps and buckles, and black boots with short heels.
She considered them. All were obviously meant to be worn with the jacket zipped over the bulletproof vest. Raluca had no desire to ever wear Fiona’s fatigues again. They would forever remind her of her stupidity in the dressing room. That left the business suits, which would be reasonable attire for visiting museums or other elegant attractions, or one of the jeans-based outfits. The black leather one would not have been out of place at Big Bacon.
The buckles and chains on the jacket were merely polished metal, not real silver, but they couldn’t help catching Raluca’s eye. She liked the boots, too, which went over the jeans and halfway up her thighs, and were also adorned with sparkling buckles and zips. They were obviously the “American things” outfit — a feminine version of Nick’s clothes, in fact.
Raluca considered the possibilities, then shrugged and put on the jeans. She had wanted to give American commoner things a try. If she hated them as much as she’d hated Big Bacon, at least she’d know rather than wondering forever. And she had the fancy party the next day.