Her expression was thoughtful. Then she nodded. “I’m hungry, too.”
They made their way down to the boat’s restaurant. “Is it true what they say about faeries?” Jethro paused as he studied the self-service menu. “If we eat together, will I belong to you forever?”
For the first time since he’d met her, Vashti smiled. It was an expression filled with genuine amusement and a hint of mischief. And it lit up the beige plastic and dull chrome environment like a flare launched into the midnight sky beyond the portholes. “Only if I want you.”
Jethro returned the smile. He had no choice. It was irresistible. “I guess I’m safe?”
“Totally.”
And in that instant, in that bland environment smelling of fries and cheap coffee with dispirited travelers milling around them, Jethro felt something shift ever so slightly. It was a tiny glimmer of something other than animosity. He wasn’t quite sure what it was. Interest? He knew what Lorcan would say. He could hear his friend’s long-suffering voice chiding, “Sure, can’t you be around a good-looking woman for more than five minutes without trying to figure out how to get her into bed?”
But it wasn’t that sort of interest. Call it curiosity. Vashti had taken him by surprise. He hadn’t expected her to have a sense of humor. That was all. She usually hid it so well with that whole pain-in-the-ass royal thing she had going on.
“So are we going to get some food?”
Aware that Vashti was regarding him with a bemused expression, Jethro gave himself a mental shake. So much for the ever-alert mercenary. Just as well neither Iago nor Tibor had been around while he was gazing into Vashti’s eyes, intrigued by this unsuspected facet to her personality. I’d have been sprawled facedown with a knife between my shoulder blades or my throat ripped out before the girl behind the counter had time to ask if I wanted my coffee regular or large.
“Yeah, let’s do that.”
The food was as sterile and uninteresting as their surroundings and they sat at a table offering them a view of black nothingness. Jethro was glad Vashti seemed content not to speak. Company on his travels was a new experience. Unwanted, unwelcome company in the form of Moncoya’s daughter had to be the worst kind of intrusion. At least he didn’t have to talk to her. No sooner had those thoughts passed through his mind than Jethro found himself wanting to question her. To discover what was going on behind those flawless features. To find out more about this exquisite enigma who, with her twin, had been Moncoya’s trained assassin.
He couldn’t talk about the night Moncoya got away. That would incite her to instant, boiling fury. In fact, it was probably best to steer clear of anything to do with her father.
“What was it like training with the Valkyries?”
Vashti withdrew her gaze from the darkness beyond the porthole and Jethro was conscious of that blue gaze assessing him. He was fairly sure he fell short of the required standard. “Demanding.” She turned away again.
“And growing up in the faerie palace?”
There was that stare again. Bland, blue and impossible to read. “Luxurious.”
This was becoming a challenge. Get her to say more than one word. “It must have been hard when your father was defeated.”
“Are you making conversation?”
He grinned. “I’m trying to.”
“Please don’t.”
With a feeling of amused irritation—the princess has spoken, I’ve been dismissed—Jethro lapsed into silence.
* * *
So far Vashti had survived her first forty-eight hours in the mortal realm without anything too alarming taking place. The noise and the sheer number of people moving around were the hardest things to deal with. How they could possibly know what they were doing, where they were going and how to avoid bumping into each other, was beyond her comprehension, yet somehow it seemed to work.
Although she would never admit it, Vashti was glad of Jethro. Keeping up with his long strides as he’d marched first through the ferry terminal, then the airport, had given her a sense of purpose that meant she hadn’t stood in the midst of the chaos simply gazing around her like a lost soul. He’d even taken the trouble to explain that extreme reactions like drop-kicking the woman who’d jostled her at the airport check-in desk or throat-punching the man who’d regarded her appreciatively before stepping uncomfortably close as they’d boarded the plane would be considered inappropriate in the mortal realm. They would even, he explained with unexpected patience, attract undue attention and land her in trouble.
“They should keep their distance,” she had grumbled as they’d taken their seats on the plane.
“They don’t know you’re a princess. To them you’re an ordinary person.”
Frustrated when her seat belt didn’t do what she wanted it to, Vashti tried to wrench it out of place. With something that sounded suspiciously like a long-suffering sigh, Jethro had showed her how to fasten it.
“Oh.” She had leaned back in her seat, digesting the information. Ordinary. She had been described as many things during her life. Never that.
Jethro had slept during much of the long plane journey. He’d slumbered like a cat, falling asleep instantly and deeply, but waking alert and watchful. While he’d dozed, Vashti had watched movies and observed her fellow passengers.
The man who had eyed her up earlier was seated across the aisle and one row in front. He was tall and slender with long, fair hair. He was traveling with a woman and the two of them seemed to exist in their own separate bubbles. Together yet apart. Vashti speculated on their relationship. As if aware of her gaze, the man looked in Vashti’s direction. Recognizing her, he grinned admiringly. The scowl she gave him in return seemed to have the desired effect and he turned away once more.
Each time Jethro did stretch his long body and open those melting dark eyes, it seemed to Vashti a flight attendant appeared as if by magic. “Do women always look at you like that?”
“Like what?” He paused in the act of devouring a sandwich.
She wrinkled her nose in an effort to find the right words. “Like they want something from you.”
His lips twitched and she got the distinct impression he was trying not to laugh. “Sometimes.”
She sighed. “I will never understand mortals.”
“We’re a fairly uncomplicated lot if you give us a chance.” He jerked a thumb toward the plane window. “The United States. Home.”
Vashti leaned across him to get a better view. “I have heard of it even in Otherworld. It doesn’t look uncomplicated to me.” It looked like an uneven jumble of architecture and water and greenery. What if I get lost down there? She turned her head to voice the question but the words died on her lips.
Her face was inches from Jethro’s, her shoulder pressed against his. Physical contact that was uncomfortably pleasant. It was a first. Something strange started happening inside her chest. As if her heart was insistently trying to pound its way out of her body. His nearness was delivering sensory overload. Every part of her was achingly aware of his scent, as though she had imbibed it through her pores. Not the smell of his cologne. Beneath that. The scent of him. Dark, spicy and seductive. It made her shudder ever so slightly. At least, she hoped the quivering movement was slight. She would hate to think Jethro could feel it.
Her eyes were drawn insistently to his mouth. Why had she never noticed the perfection of that luscious slope to his lower lip? Or the stubble outlining his upper lip that had darkened as their journey progressed. It was so tempting to reach out her finger to find out if the bristles were as coarse as they looked. She actually had to fight the impulse at the same time she was resisting the urge to trace the small cleft in his chin