A Touch Too Much by Chris Lange Page B

Before Liv’s astonished gaze, Khord went down on one knee, head bowed.
    “Forgive me, my king.”
    “Wait for me outside.”
    Dismissed, the brute stood up. Without a single glance at her, he strode out of the room. Liv stared at the closed door, realising they were alone. She was incapable of looking at Rogan.
    “Get dressed.”
    In a way, his command should’ve been considered good news. If this Rogan-thing wanted her dressed, he had no intention of killing her right now. Yet she was so aware of his towering presence, so tied to the intimacy they had shared that she felt unable to move.
    Did he perceive her shock? Did he sense she wasn’t a computer to process data at lightning speed? Whatever the case, he walked to the table where she had left her recent purchases, rummaged through the bigger bag, and threw a bunch of clothes onto the bed.
    “There. Now, get dressed.”
    This vampire wouldn’t tolerate denial. In spite of her total dismay, Liv could see he was used to being obeyed. Although she looked at him long and hard, her mind only told her the vampire in front of her was Rogan. Same face, same golden-freckled eyes, same voice.
    Had he been human she might have figured he had a twin brother, but vampires had no kin. Fully aware of the big risk she was about to take, she called him by the name she wanted to be true.
    “Rogan.”
    This time, his look of genuine surprise didn’t reassure her in the least. When he spoke, the full power of his words hit her.
    “I thought you’d have been smarter. How long is it going to take you to understand? I am not Rogan.”
    “Well, who are you then?”
    “My name is Raskhan. I’m the king of the Overworld.”
    Shit, oh shit. What was she supposed to do with that? Nothing yet. He snapped his fingers towards the foot of the bed where her clothes lay. Yes, he wanted her to get dressed, she got that!
    “Where’s Rogan?”
    “Precisely where he should be.”
    Bedspread tight around her shoulders, Liv crept forward on her butt to sit on the edge. Collecting her stuff she stood up. Only then did she realise the cover clinging to her skin was attached to the bottom corners of the bed—firmly attached.
    Either she let it drop or she made a run for the bathroom. In both cases he’d see her naked. The prospect of him eyeing her bare body had lost any appeal, so she tried to voice her demand in a firm voice.
    “Would you mind?”
    With a half-smile he had been watching her making a fool of herself. As she spoke he crossed his arms over his chest, clearly showing his refusal to avert his gaze. Although he knew her body inside and out, it was obvious he had no intention of missing a free striptease show.
    “I would.”
    Right. No luck there. Let’s try something else. She would not run to the bathroom. She would not give him the satisfaction of feeling ashamed. In a manner Liv hoped was queenly, she’d slowly walk to the bathroom. Holding her clothes with one hand, she let go of the bedspread. Without glancing at the spitting image of Rogan she took a step forward. Then a second, a third, her back so straight she could have passed for an automaton.
    As she extended her hand to seize the handle, a weight in her back forced her to flatten against the door. Startled, she dropped her clothes, her hands instinctively rushing up to cushion the impact. Left cheek pressed hard against the door, cold wood grazing her nipples and belly, legs slightly open to keep her balance, the zip of his jeans moulded into her lower back, she dared not utter a single sound, dared not attempt a single move.
    “Watch your steps, little girl. If you misbehave, I intend to make you pay for it.”
    Although Liv wasn’t sure what he was referring to, she recognised the ring of truth in his tone. Fear felt like a lifelong companion by now, but to her utter disbelief something else ran far stronger in her veins.
    How could her body betray her so? How could she feel aroused by a barbarian pinning her to