Scaring me.

Now I realized I hadn't.

His expression was void of emotion but his eyes made the hairs on my neck rise.

I licked my lips.

"Fu Shao?"

He started unbuttoning his shirt, revealing small cuts and a longer wound below his ribs. His skin was covered with blood.

But it couldn't all have come from him, especially not all the blood on the shirt. It worried me that he still hadn't spoke. He shed his shirt and dropped it on the ground.

Then he unbuckled his belt.

"Fu Shao," I said.

"You are scaring me. What happened?"

He pushed his pants down and stepped out of them. He was barefoot and now only in his short as he knelt on the bed and brought one knee between my legs.

I began to regret wearing only a nightgown. He slowly moved up until his head hovered over me.

A terror gripped my throat, turned my heartbeat into a flutter.

His eyes made me want to bolt, to cry and scream, to escape.

Instead, I lifted my hand and cupped his cheek. His expression shifted, a chink in the monstrous mask.

He leaned into the touch, then he lowered his face and pressed it into the crook of my neck. He breathed in deeply and didn't move for a long time. I tried not to panic.

My hand was shaking against his cheek.

"Fu Shao?" I said softly.

He raised his head again. I could see a flicker of the man that I knew. He slid off the bed and headed for the bathroom.

When he was out of sight, I let out a deep breath.

Whatever had gone down today must have been horrible.

I sat up as I listened to the running shower.

In what kind of mood would he return into the bedroom?

The devil in check, or almost unleashed like a moment ago?

The water stopped and I quickly lay down on my side of the bed and pulled the covers up.

A few minutes later, the door opened and Fu Shao walked in with a towel around his waist. It was white, but a few droplets of blood had dripped from his wound and stained the fabric.

He didn't walk toward the cupboard to grab boxer shorts as he usually did, instead he came directly toward the bed.

When he reached for the towel, I averted my eyes and turned on my other side, my back toward him. He lifted the blanket and the mattress shifted under his weight.

He pressed up against me, his hand curled over my hip in an almost bruising grip before he turned me toward him.

My mind screamed at me to stop him. He was completely naked and in a scary mood. He'd spent the day picking up the pieces of one of his men and the remaining day killing his enemies.

He grabbed the hem of my nightgown and began pulling it up.