Page 36 of Balthazar's Fire

“I know you won’t.” His warm palm enclosed her hand. “I wouldn’t have told you if I didn’t have total faith in you, Cherie.”

“I’m h-honored,” she stammered. “But…” Squeezing her eyes closed, she bit down on the question she wanted to ask. She was going to inquire how Balthazar had known it was safe to trust her, but to question his faith in her seemed counterproductive.

“But what?” he probed. “Whatever it is, just ask me.”

“Is that an order, sir?” She grinned, despite her racing pulse, amused at how it was easier to talk to him when she was deferred to him with the title.

“It can be,” he assured her, echoing the words he’d told her during that first evening at the mountain lodge.

It was only a matter of days since he’d flown her up there in his helicopter and wowed her with the breathtaking vantage, and yet it seemed like months had passed to Cherie. So much had taken place since then. She’d known so much passion, so much fear—and so much had been shared. Balthazar, this man who should be a stranger, had somehow become so integral to who she was.

“If it means you’ll share how you feel and what you mean, then yes, beautiful.” His hand rose, tapping her fingers lightly. “Consider that a command, and if it helps loosen your tongue, then I can add the threat of a spanking to the mix, as well.”

Spanking?

The word pinballed around her head, convincing Cherie she had surely misheard him. No one spanked grown adults. It was preposterous, and yet something about the idea was oddly alluring.

“I just wondered why you chose to tell me that you’re a shifter, sir.” Trepidation curled in her tummy, insisting that she fidget on the blanket-covered stool. She must have misheard Balthazar. There was no way he’d just bandied the idea of spanking her. Absolutely no way. “How did you know you could trust me?”

“That’s easy, Cherie.”

Raising the cup to his lips, he took a long sip while his eyes bored into her. Cherie’s flesh goosed under his scrutiny, her brain unable to interpret his long stare. Was he angry at her for asking? He didn’t seem to be, but then if she’d accepted the man was half-dragon, how could she know? He was an entirely different animal to her and therefore his responses were bound to be unpredictable.

She watched as he put down his cup, feeling his fingers furling around hers.

“Instinct told me to trust you,” he explained. “And my gut feelings are never wrong. From the first time I set eyes on you, I wanted you, but after watching the way Monroe belittled and disrespected you, it quickly became more than that. I need to protect you, too, to make sure you’re safe.”

“I’m so happy that you came into the city for the meeting.” A sudden rush of emotion surged within her, and she blinked back tears as she went on. “We might never have met, otherwise.”

“I suspect we were always going to meet, beautiful.” Clasping her hand in his, he lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed them. “We just had to wait until the right moment presented itself.”

“That’s a nice way of looking at it,” she mused. “Very romantic.”

“I can be romantic.”

“I’ll say,” she affirmed. “Coffee and croissant definitely qualify.”

“Shit, the croissants!” Leaping from his stool, he dashed to the oven and opened the door. A gush of heat swarmed in her direction as he switched off the cooker and grabbed the tray from inside. “Damn it, they’re almost burned.”

“Nonsense, sir,” she retorted, slipping from her stool and joining him at the oven. She glanced down at the tray and assessed the croissants. “They look fine and they smell great!”

“You’re only being generous.” He scowled, though his smile conveyed his irritation was only with himself. “They’re ruined.”

“I’d love one,” she told him as her hand moved to her tummy. “If truth be told, I’m famished.”

“Sit back down then,” he instructed as he transferred the croissants to a waiting plate. “Charred breakfast coming right up!”

Resuming her place at the bar, she giggled as he presented the plate to her, along with an array of butter, jams and other spreads. It was bemusing to witness such a strapping man fussing about overdone baked goods, but the paradox only made her want him more.

“Thank you, Balthazar,” she enthused. “I appreciate it.”

Turning her attention to the plate, she selected one of the croissants and tugged it into two halves, dropping each piece onto the plate to avoid burning her fingers. Selecting one half of the croissant, Cherie nibbled on the end as he settled beside her. After his enigmatic display of flawlessness over the last couple of days, she had to admit, it was reassuring to know that her sir wasn’t perfect, after all.

Chapter Thirteen

Balthazar

“It’s ruined, isn’t it?”