He looked at my leg. He looked at my breasts, straining to get out of my bra in a manner hitherto unbeknownst to me. He went back to my bare leg, with a brief stop at my hips and belly.

‘‘No?’’ I asked, amused, aroused, and slightly confused by his hesitation.

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he shook his head. ‘‘I want you,’’ he finally said, his voice sounding somewhat strangled.

‘‘I can see you do,’’ I said, glancing toward the bulgy front of his pants.

‘‘I mean I really want you. I need you. Right now.’’

‘‘Well, I don’t see a problem with that, unless Cyrene has suddenly developed a skill for lock picking,’’ I said, unbuckling the knife sheath.

I stood up, wondering what on earth was keeping him from all the pouncing I could have sworn he was going to do the second we were alone, and decided to give him a little encouragement. I unhooked the front of my bra and let it fall to the floor.

Gabriel swore in what I assumed was his native language, his eyes huge.

I watched him closely for a moment. He was as stiff as a board, only the liquid silver of his gaze as it leaped from my breasts to my legs and back again offering a sign he was still actually alive. He’d even stopped breathing.

I shucked my underwear and stood in what I hoped was an attractive pose that wouldn’t let him see quite how large my backside was.

A strange gurgling noise emerged from him, but nothing else.

‘‘Am I doing something wrong here?’’ I finally asked, raising my hands and letting them fall in frustration. ‘‘You don’t want me naked?’’

A little whimper escaped his lips. He swallowed again, his hands tightening to fists at his side. ‘‘I can’t think of anything I want more at this moment, including the phylactery, Kostya’s head on a platter, and peace in the weyr.’’

‘‘Then why are you standing over there, making odd little noises of unhappiness, while I’m standing here feeling extremely insecure, exposed, and like I need to go on an immediate diet to lose at least ten pounds?’’

He closed his eyes for a moment, his face twisted in pain. ‘‘I may be a dragon, but I am not an animal, Mayling. You clearly wish to arouse me by performing this . . . incredible . . . striptease, and I will stand here and allow you to proceed if it kills me. Which it very likely may do.’’

‘‘Gabriel,’’ I said, smiling at the fact that he thought I was performing for him.

‘‘Don’t,’’ he said, his eyes still closed. His body trembled.

‘‘Don’t what?’’

‘‘Don’t say my name. I don’t think I can bear it.’’