Page 35 of Balthazar's Fire

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Page 35 of Balthazar's Fire

Slipping from his sheets, she yanked the blanket from his bed and wrapped it around her before padding out of the door. Blinking into the half-light, she followed the sound of his whistling down the galleried staircase to find the kitchen, where she enjoyed the look of him as he worked on what looked like a tray of breakfast goodies. As she stood in the doorway, she enjoyed the smell of something warming in the oven while the coffee brewed, unable to resist the look of his tempting, tight ass.

“Do you like the view?” Glancing over his shoulder, he chuckled as their eyes met.

“Erm, yes,” she admitted, aware of heat crawling from her neck to her face. How had Balthazar heard her? She’d been silent on the stairs and hadn’t consciously made a sound since. “Sorry. I wanted to come and find you.”

“You found me, all right,” he replied, gesturing to the breakfast bar. “Take a seat. The croissants will be ready in a moment.”

“Croissants?” Wandering into the enormous kitchen, she turned toward the oven. “Wow. You didn’t need to go to any trouble, sir.”

Her lips curled at the final word as if they were amused by how simple it was to use it around him. Oliver had never deserved the accolade, and yet in the short time she’d known Balthazar, he’d ensured that no one had merited it more.

“You’re worth the trouble.” His focus fell to her as she settled on one of the bar stools, tugging the ends of the blanket back around her. “Are you cold?”

“No,” she admitted.

“Then, lose the blanket, beautiful.” The same devils that had shone in his eyes last night danced there again now, goading her into compliance. “I’d love to see your wonderful body.”

Cherie dropped the ends of the cover immediately, surprisingly confident as his gaze devoured her breasts. She’d never been especially self-assured where her body image was concerned, but Balthazar’s appreciative glances reminded her how much he liked what he saw.

“Here.” Crossing the marble floor, he placed one cup of coffee down in front of her before lifting the second to his nose and inhaling the aroma. “Your morning coffee, Madam.”

Was it still morning? In the haze of their attraction, Cherie hadn’t even looked at the time.

“Thank you, sir.” Smiling, she grasped at the china handle. “I’m amazed that you heard me coming down the stairs. I thought I was as quiet as a mouse.”

“Well, I do have extraordinarily good hearing.” Taking a sip of his drink, his knowing look burned into her.

“Because you’re a…” Somehow, she couldn’t quite get the word out, as if saying it aloud was an admission of its reality, but his twitching mouth told her that she was going to have to try. Evidently, Balthazar was entertained by her struggle.

“Go on,” he prompted.

“A shifter?”

It sounded ridiculous when she said it, her logical brain refusing to acknowledge what it meant.

“That’s right,” he answered, sitting on the stool beside her. “My senses are heightened because of my ability.”

“I still can’t believe it.” There, Cherie had said it. “Not that I think you’re lying,” she added, gripping her coffee cup a little tighter. “But because none of it seems real.”

That was the crux of the matter. From the moment Balthazar had walked into Oliver’s office, everything that had taken place was like the plot of a paperback she’d take on vacation, but even the books she liked to read rarely involved paranormal creatures, sizzling submission and kidnapping. She pulled in a breath as she tried to rationalize everything that had happened.

“I understand.” His tone was predictably kind. “All things considered, you’ve taken the news incredibly well.”

“What’s it like, sir?” she asked, lifting the cup to her lips and enjoying the steam on her face. “To transform into something else?”

Did I really just ask him that?

“Strange,” he replied. “At first. But you get used to it.”

“Does it hurt?” Putting down her cup, her brows knitted at the idea of Balthazar being pained. He was so caring and handsome, surely no one deserved discomfort less.

“No.” Shaking his head, his smile broadened. “There’s no pain. Only heat that morphs and eventually erupts. If anything, I usually feel euphoric when my dragon emerges.”

“I’d love to meet him one day.” Wait, what? Did I really just say that? Balthazar’s eyes widened a fraction, enough to confirm that she had. “I mean, if you think it’s a good idea.”

“Of course.” His voice was warm as he put down his coffee and reached for her free hand. “It’s just no one has ever asked to see my dragon before.” He chuckled knowingly. “Probably, because I’ve never told anyone about him before.”

“Thank you for trusting me with such a huge secret.” That was an understatement. Despite everything Cherie had been through, she couldn’t imagine carrying around such a clandestine part of herself. It was a wonder that he hadn’t gone mad. “I swear to never tell another living soul.”




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