Free Ruin: The Waking by Lucian Bane Page A

the large bowl of last week’s gumbo where he proceeded to devour it without stop until he was done. Isadore watched, amazed, and maybe concerned.
    “You were starving?” She got a glass from the cabinet and filled it with milk.
    “I was.” He took the milk and downed it with loud gulps.
    “Wow,” she said, amazed. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
    He looked up at her, licking his lips, drawing her rapt attention to his full mouth that suddenly held back a smile. She shot her gaze to his and he stood, holding her captive with those green eyes. She found herself looking up at him, defenseless as he continued to stare into her eyes. “I want to do something for you.”
    Anything seemed to be the logical response. “Like what? It’s not necessary.”
    His warm fingers closed around her hand and he smiled. “Yes, it is.”
    “Where are we going?” She let him pull her to the stairs, a bomb of excitement detonating in her stomach.
    “You’ll see. Do you trust me?”
    She’d sworn to try and be as brutally honest as he was with her. “Not entirely, no.”
    He actually glanced back with a smile that arrested her heart. “You speak the truth.”
    “I’m working on that.”
    “You should. Given your Christianity.”
    “Yes, yes, I know. I’m not perfect. It’s why I need God.”
    He led her to the bed. “Would you… consider removing your robe?”
    She gasped, her eyes popping. “Umm no?”
    “Okay.” He rubbed his hands together slowly. “ I had to ask.”
    “I could… change maybe.” Dear God, she didn’t even know what he wanted to do and she was ready to accommodate him.
    “Yes.” He sounded pleased with that.
    She went to her dresser and dug through the items, her hand pausing on one of her thin nighties she ’d kept. Mostly to not forget that she was a woman. She never wore it. “Turn around. No looking.”
    “Turned.”
    She looked over her shoulder and quickly slipped into the naughty sheer white that barely went over her butt. It didn’t match her boy looking briefs, but that was as daring as she dared to get. “What do I need to do in the bed?”
    “Lay on it. On your stomach.”
    “And what are you planning to do?”
    “Help you relax. Can I look?”
    “Not yet.” Oh if he only knew. Her every muscle was in knots of excitement. “Headed to the bed now.” She laid on her stomach and turned her face away from him. “Ready.”
    Silence reigned in the seconds that Isadore laid with her eyes clenched tight at wondering what he was thinking.
    “I’m going to touch you.” His voice was low and near and…threatening. Or maybe it only seemed like a threat with the way it rushed out on a breath.
    “I’m ready,” she sang, trying her best to be brave.
    She startled when his hot fingers stroked over a spot on the back of her thigh. “You were hurt.”
    She remembered the bruise she’d forgotten all about. “Just a little.”
    He took hold of her right foot then. “Starting from the bottom.”
    “A foot massage. Nice.” Dear God, starting from the bottom. All what that might mean tingled in her body. How detailed would he get in his journey?
    His touch was…phenomenal. It soon reminded her of what it might feel like to float safely in a warm ocean, gentle yet waves faithfully carrying… embracing… comforting… releasing.
    He worked his miracle up to the knee on her left leg, then did the same to the right. He then took soft hold of her ankles and spread them about two feet apart. “You’re safe,” he whispered, before she could think to panic.
    She tried to relax again and he began that same glorious treatment to her upper thigh from the side of the bed it seemed.
    She was suddenly tormented with not knowing what he thought of her body. She could feel his eyes staring, she just knew. He had said nothing. Did he realize how naughty it was for her to put that on? Did he see it as her way of compromising? Not entirely uninterested in the idea of him seeing her, but