Rayner returned to his quarters after a tedious afternoon of trade negotiations with Clan Arakid. Kaveh’s state of mind had been wandering today, and he’d caused more strife than necessary. Because of it, the Arakid ambassador had left with a pinched look on his pale face, his bony shoulders hunched beneath the elaborate silken cloak he wore.

Rayner barely had time to get his front door closed before he caught a glimpse of red hair. Vera’s spicy scent threaded up his nose before she shoved him back against the door. “Where’s Niva?” she demanded, shoving him again. “What did you do with her?”

Rayner took her wrists in one hand and eased her back. She was stronger than he’d anticipated, and he needed a second to recover from a day away from her enticing smell. If she pressed herself up against him again, even if it was only to shove him back, he might take her mouth in his.

She stepped back, her hands on her hips. She wore a long tunic made of disturbingly familiar cloth. “What are you wearing?”

“Never mind my clothing. Where’s Niva?” She paced in front of him, the long, white silk tunic clinging to her every move.

His heart raced. He could see less of her flesh, but the outfit made her more appealing. The fabric gathered at her shoulders, leaving her arms bare, and hung down to just below her knees. And for some reason, she smelled … like she belonged to him. He answered, “I’ve found her an assignment in the royal’s donjon. Drausus cannot reach her there. Now tell me,” he said, reaching out to draw her to a stop. He pulled her closer, his eyes on the tunic. He traced a finger over the buttery material covering her shoulder. “Where did you come by this?”

“She’ll really be safe?” Vera pressed, ignoring his question.

“I vow it. Gerrit, the Alpha’s heir, will keep an eye on her.” Rayner’s eyes traveled the length of the roughly sewn seams of her tunic. “What is this?”

“You said we had to earn our own clothing, so I improvised while I was waiting for you.”

Now he recognized the cloth. It explained why she was covered in his scent. His voice came out in a low rumble. “What have you done to my bedsheets?”

High-ranking clan members had cowered at the tone before, but Vera only crossed her arms beneath her breasts and scowled. “You were late, and I was worried about Niva. Besides, you have plenty of bedsheets.”

“I told you I would provide you with new clothing as soon as I could.” Rayner wrapped one fist around the silk joined at her shoulder as if to rip it free. Sheets wide enough to cover his enormous bed cost a fortune, and she’d cut it into how many pieces? Not to mention even the Alpha’s servants didn’t wear cloth this fine, and white was reserved for mates only, or, as in the case of his bedsheets, for the act of mating. “You do not have the right to destroy property which doesn’t belong to you. You show no respect for our ways.”

She grabbed his wrist and used her other hand to pry his fingers loose. “I didn’t feel safe in that excuse for a uniform. It might be okay for other Vilkan servants to wear it, but me and the other women draw too much attention being human. The women glared at me, and the men couldn’t stop staring at my cleavage.”

His skin tightened. Other men had been ogling Vera. His Vera. “Take it off.”

“I won’t.” Vera’s eyes burned with venom.

He ground his teeth, his jaw muscles aching. She had a right to feel safe, but she also needed to learn their ways. “I promise I’ll get you something that covers you more. Something you’ll feel safe wearing. But you have to give me a chance to do it.”

“You had all day.”

That was true, he’d had all day, and he hadn’t even inquired about new clothing. He’d been trying to shut her from his mind by staying busy. “I give you permission to remain in the house until I can provide new clothes.”

Something in her stance told him to be wary, like he’d crossed some territory line he hadn’t seen. She gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you, sir.”

“That way no one can stare at you.” No one except me. He swallowed, resolving to place an order for clothing as soon as possible. For her sake and his.

Her nostrils flared, and she turned from him toward the small table where he took his meals. “It’s your right to direct my services. Would you like something to eat, sir?”

Her fire had turned to cold steel, and he didn’t imagine that boded well. But then he’d never noticed a female’s reactions so much before. He cleared his throat and answered, “Yes, thank you.”

Moving to the small table, he sat and watched as she poured water for him to drink. When he reached for his glass, his fingers brushed hers. She jerked her hand away. She set a platter in front of him filled with dark bread, fruta, and pryll. His stomach growled.

Then he realized what must be wrong. She was hungry. She’d been with Decallian all day, and he’d never given her authorization to eat. He wasn’t used to having a servant attending to him. His gut twisted with guilt. She had to be starving. He gestured to the chair across from him. “Would you like to sit?”

She stared at the floor, her shoulders stiff. “No, thank you, sir.”

“You must be hungry.”

“Decallian instructed that I’m not to eat in your presence, sir.”

“Stop calling me that.” He stood up, towering over her. He could handle her disobedience, her sass, her attitude. What he couldn’t handle was this cold distance.

“Calling you what, sir?”

“Is this a game?” Rayner willed her to look up at him. To meet him head-on like she had moments ago. Now, she was playing the part of servant all too well, and he loathed it.

“I’m just following the rules I was given about my place as your servant.”

Reaching out, he grabbed her chin and looked into eyes shining with anger and resentment. The fire was there, but dampened, smothered. Her full lips quivered slightly, and she clamped them into a tight line before dropping her gaze to his chest. She wasn’t broken, then. Just hurt. “I’m not a bad man, Vera.”

“Then take your hands off me. Or is that your right too?”

He stepped back, feeling as if he’d been struck. Her words stirred the memories of how his mother had been treated. “That’s not what I want. I promise I will never ask that of you.”

She swung her chin up to face him, face flushed and chest heaving. A lock of red hair fell across her forehead. “Then what do you want?”

He felt an unreasonable and unexpected urge to trace the freckles scattered across her cheeks with his finger. To taste that sassy mouth. To ignite her passion even if it meant stoking her ire. Instead, he said through his teeth, “I just want to keep you safe. To do what’s right by you and your friends, despite the circumstances that keep you here.”

“I have no reason to trust you, Rayner.” Her voice sounded hollow. Hopeless. It tugged at his heart like nothing he’d ever felt in his life.

Gently, he slid his arms around her and drew her close, resting his chin atop her head. To his surprise, she didn’t resist, only laid her cheek against his chest. She fit perfectly. Like a piece of himself he’d been missing all his life. This close to her, the scent she exuded made his heart pump faster.

He craved to smell her in his Vilkan form, but to do so would only terrify her, only serve to remind her of the beast he was. “You can trust me, I promise. I’ll get you clothes. And I’ll take you to visit Niva so you can see her and know for yourself she’s in a good home.”

He inhaled more of her haunting scent, feeling as if he’d finally caught a breath after a lifetime of drowning.