Allowing Roke to carry her into the bathroom, she was happy to discover the satin gown had been replaced with the itchy blanket. It made it easy to drop it to the floor so she could step beneath the scalding hot water.
Roke murmured something before disappearing from the room. Sally thought she heard something about food, but she was too numb to concentrate on more than one thing at a time. At the moment the winner was the cascade of hot water that felt like heaven.
She stood in the shower until her skin was pruny and her legs threatened to buckle. Then, wrapping a towel around her damp body, she left the vast marble bathroom and made a beeline for the bed.
Crawling beneath the covers, she was prepared when Roke returned with a tray of food that could easily have fed a football team.
Fried chicken, hamburgers, pizza, barbecued ribs, fries, apple pie . . .
He’d obviously hit every fast-food restaurant in the area.
In silence Sally consumed a respectable portion of the feast, replenishing her depleted energy before she set the tray on the nightstand next to her. Then, leaning against the headboard, she watched as Roke paced the floor with barely leashed agitation.
Her heart gave a treacherous leap.
He was just so . . . gorgeous.
Not unearthly beautiful like her father.
Or handsome like a human model.
He was raw and dangerous and so potently male he made every female hormone in her body sizzle with awareness.
Perhaps sensing her gaze, he abruptly glanced toward her with eyes darkened by storm clouds of emotion.
“Are you warm enough?” he asked, never halting his restless pacing. “There are more blankets in the cupboard.”
“I’m fine.”
His brows drew together. “You’re shivering.”
With a sense of surprise, Sally realized he was right. She hadn’t noticed that her entire body was trembling beneath the covers.
“Delayed shock,” she muttered.
His jaws clenched, the priceless oil paintings on the wall rattling as he struggled to control his burst of frustration.
“Tell me what you need.”
“You could sit still,” she suggested with a grimace. “You’re making me dizzy.”
“You’re not the only one with delayed shock,” he muttered, coming to a reluctant halt. His dark face was in full lockdown as the paintings continued to rattle. “I’m on the edge of a full-out rampage.”
Sally snorted. “You’re always on the edge of a full-out rampage.”
His eyes flashed silver fire. “Only since I met you, my love. Until then I was accused of having ice in my veins.”
She stiffened at the unfair accusation. “Don’t blame me.”
“I don’t. I blame the irony of fate.” He rammed his fingers through his hair. “It just couldn’t resist destroying my arrogant assumption I could choose an obedient mate who was content to remain in the background.”
Sally ground her teeth together. She was getting tired of hearing about Roke’s imaginary mate.
“She sounds perfect,” she gritted.
He shook his head, his lips twisted in a rueful smile. “Instead my mate is a beautiful, impulsive, unpredictable witch who has made me jump through hoop after hoop since she claimed me.”
Sally wasn’t appeased. “I didn’t mean to claim you.”
“But you have, now I need to do whatever necessary to ease your pain.” Moving forward, he climbed onto the bed and gently pulled her into his arms. “Tell me how I can do that.”
Her brief flare of annoyance melted away as she snuggled against the hard strength of his chest.
A part of her knew this was dangerous.
She’d spent a lifetime learning that she could never depend on anyone. They always failed her. Always disappointed.
And the recent encounter with her father only emphasized that painful lesson.
But she didn’t have the energy to be sensible.
She badly needed the comfort of his strong arms and the cool wash of his power wrapping around her like a security blanket.
“You could start with waving a magic wand and giving me new parents,” she admitted, the words edged with a bitterness she couldn’t disguise. “I’m not fussy. The Borgias had to be better.”
“Parents?” She felt his muscles tense beneath her cheek. “As in plural?”
“I just had a close encounter with an alien claiming to be my father.”
“Alien?”
“He might as well be. He said . . .” She sucked in a deep breath. She hadn’t fully wrapped her brain around the latest bombshell to hit her life. Strange, really. You’d think she’d be used to unpleasant shocks. “He said he’s a Chatri.”
Roke gave a low hiss, his fingers sliding beneath her chin to tilt her face up to meet his narrowed gaze.
“Start at the beginning.”
Still raw from her encounter with her father, Sally instantly bristled at the sharp command.
“That sounded dangerously close to an order.”
His lips flattened, but he spoke the words she never thought she’d hear.
“Please, Sally.”
She might have smiled if her heart weren’t bruised and aching.
“I’m not sure what happened after we were in the portal.”
“Did your father open the portal?”
She shook her head, wrinkling her nose. “He said that I did.”
He looked more curious than astonished by her revelation. “Is that how you took us to Nevada when I was unconscious?”
“No. An imp opened that one.” She was struck by a sudden thought. She’d been so worried about Roke dying that she’d forgotten the sensation of the imp’s magic sinking inside her, as if she were claiming it for her own. “Although, I think I must have . . . absorbed how he weaved his magic when he created it,” she said slowly.
Roke frowned, trying to work through her babbling. “What imp?”
“It doesn’t matter.” She didn’t want to discuss her weird, rapidly changing powers. Not now. “Once we were in the portal we were separated. You came here and I ended up in an illusion created by my father.”
His thumb brushed the line of her jaw. “Tell me about him.”
She relished the soothing caress. The mating between her and Roke might be fake, but the comfort he offered her was very real.
As long as he was near, the world seemed . . . right.
“He’s beautiful,” she said.
A faint smile curved his lips, his gaze sweeping over her face.