Free The Stone Warriors: Damian by D. B. Reynolds Page B

experienced a lot of life up there on the roof, but she doubted ordering room service was part of it. Or using a hotel phone, for that matter.
    He nodded, his head still bowed as he sat on the side of the bed. “I am hungry,” he said, without looking at her, as if he was embarrassed at being afraid of the dark. Though she doubted he would describe it quite that way.
    She grabbed the other robe, then walked over, and reached for the bedside lamp. “Do you mind?” she asked.
    He made a grunting noise that she took for assent, so she flicked the switch on the lamp. It didn’t light the room completely, but it was better than just the bathroom light. She turned and offered him the robe. “It’s not quite god-sized,” she joked lamely. “But it will keep you decent when the room service waiter arrives.”
    He cracked a smile at last, a wicked grin that made his opinion on that very clear. He didn’t care who saw him naked. If she’d had a body like his, she probably wouldn’t have cared either. If she’d been a man, that was. Since she was a woman, having his body would be rather odd. Focus, Casey. Damn. Put a gorgeous, naked god in her vicinity, and she lost her mind.
    She crossed to the desk and found the room-service menu. When she turned back, Damian was standing and had donned the robe. She bit her lip. Yeah, the robe was definitely not sized for a god, but at least it made him a little less distracting. She opened the folio to breakfast and handed it to him.
    “Knock yourself out, big guy.”
    He gave the menu a puzzled look, and she realized he might not understand the colloquialism. “It means—”
    “I know what it means,” he assured her. “I’m simply amazed at the variety of foods available.”
    “There’s coffee too, or tea. Or I’m sure I can get wine, if that’s what you’re accustomed to.”
    Damian sank back onto the bed and perused his breakfast options. Typical male—he paid no attention at all to the spread of his legs and the subsequent display of his . . . junk to anyone who happened to be sitting on the opposite bed. Which Casey was. And she couldn’t stop herself from looking. It was an impressive display.
    Damn it. She stood quickly and sat next to him instead. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll call it in,” she said, pretending she had only moved to bring the hotel phone closer. “Or if you have any questions.”
    “What will you be eating?” he asked, one thick finger running down the list.
    “I’m not much of a breakfast person,” she said. “Coffee, of course, and maybe some fruit and a bagel.”
    He looked up, and she realized, for the first time, that he’d showered at some point last night. His hair was clean and shiny and fell over his shoulders in golden waves that looked a hell of a lot better than hers did. He smelled good, too.
    Shit. She was doing it again.
    “You should eat something,” he told her. “Preferably meat. Your body will need the energy.”
    “Energy for what?” she asked suspiciously.
    His eyes crinkled first, followed by a slow grin that made her want to squirm, aware of her own nakedness beneath the robe. “Energy to heal,” he clarified solemnly, but with hints of the grin still playing around his mouth.
    Casey felt her blush and was glad for the dimly lit room. “You’re right,” she agreed quickly, wanting to change the flirtatious undercurrent of the conversation. “I’ll get some eggs.”
    A soft snort told her what he thought of that, but he didn’t comment until he looked up from the menu again, and said, “Steak is meat, isn’t it?”
    “Most of the time,” she agreed. “Definitely in this case. It’s beef.”
    “Okay, I’ll have the steak and eggs. I want the meat bloody, whatever you call it here, and the eggs fried. Also, the fruit platter and the lox . . . that’s salmon, right?” he asked, then continued when she nodded. “Good. And a pastry basket and coffee, too. I’ve never had coffee, but