CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Emma's legs dangled as she sat waiting for Clyde, who was taking forever in the washroom. Thoughts flooded her kind, including her unanswered questions about the Carrington her parents had mentioned during her encounter with the Nashgur. How could she start a conversation with Clyde about that without raising his suspicion?

The creaking of the door brought her attention back to reality. Clyde's cold expression hadn't faded. What was he so angry about? “You haven't gone to bed?” he questioned, keeping his focus on the wardrobe. It hit him that there was nothing appropriate there for him to dress in. He had to go back to his room because the clothes there were just a few unused shirts that weren't his favorites to dress in.

Emma mustered the courage to tease him. Not tease, say her kind. “I was waiting for you?”

“Why?” he bluntly asked.

Emma couldn't believe her eyes. She felt like they had been pricked by a pin from that ridiculous question. “What do you mean by why?”

Quirking his thi