East

I found myself obeying even though I didn't want to. He smelled of man, steel, horses and his own dark musk.

"Feel me."

Not that I hadn't noticed the rock hard body against me, but in that moment, I truly experienced it, the way my softer frame molded to him, the power of his thick thighs, the arm holding me against him, the width and hardness of his chest, even of the calloused hand across my mouth. For a moment, there was nothing in any time period but us. We managed to transcend the thirteenth and twenty-first centuries, to connect on a primal level that defied time.

My senses filled with him, and he pulled me back from the brink where I sort of wanted to be. I doubted it was his intent in any regard, but if not for the blood, fear and time distortion, I'd almost call this strange experience … erotic.

"And you are back," he said, reading my expression. His own softened, the amusement I couldn't remotely understand returning to his eyes. "Fetch your monkey. We must go."

He released me suddenly enough, I groped for the table to catch my balance. I was breathless, and this time, it wasn't from fear. It was from whatever experience just happened.

I didn't want a connection with anyone. Not the princess and certainly not him. The last person I noticed everything about, from the roughness of his hands to his musk, was …

Taylor.

Pain shot through me at the memory I didn't want.

"Her name is Flowers," I corrected Batu. He was already at the door, the delay between him speaking and me long enough to make my cheeks warm.

"Her name is Monkey, ugly one."

Whatever. Shaking my head to clear my jittery senses of him, I climbed unsteadily atop the table once more and held out my arms for the princess.

She climbed down.

A little uncertainly, I helped us both off the table and took her hand, gazing at Batu, who waited at the door, sharpened gaze on whatever activity occurred in the hallway. His sword was tucked away and the pouch of ears dripping blood. He hadn't bothered to change clothing, and the shirt hanging off him did nothing to diminish the size of his frame.

"Why did he not kill us?" Flowers asked me.

Realizing she hadn't understood the exchange, I sought the simplest explanation possible. "Mahmood was right. Batu's people won't hurt us and he is going to help us leave here."

She wrapped one of her arms around me despite my attempt to reassure her, her gaze on the bodies between us and the door.