Lena raises to the tips of her toes, reaching toward a stiletto displayed on the wall, but as she moves to touch it, I catch the exact moment she notices my presence. Her hums trail off, her back stiffens, and her hand freezes below the dagger. She glances at me over her shoulder and my stomach drops at her look of cold indifference before she returns her attention forward, silently dismissing me.
Guilt balloons at her chilly response. Without my anger shadowing it, I detect another emotion. Regret.
Inwardly cursing her for eliciting another unwelcome emotion, I clench my jaw and step fully into the room. “I apologize if I was rude.”
With her front facing away, she barely acknowledges my presence, brushing her fingers across the dagger’s hilt. “What do you mean if you were rude? We both know you were.”
Of course I'm aware; it was intentional. But I'm not going to admit that. Neither will I mention how rude it is for her to question me on my apology, which I think is quite generous of me, given the situation.
“I’m sorry,” I grind out, expecting my apology, my repeated apology, to be the end of that. But at her lack of response, I can only assume it's not.
Dropping her hand, she spins to face me, finally giving me her sole attention. “Did your sister force you to apologize?”
“No,” I lie. She arches her black brows, watching me with a knowing stare that's uncannily similar to Aurora’s. Rubbing my forehead with my fingertips, I glance back at the archway and debate leaving altogether. But I quickly dismiss the thought, knowing Aurora will send me right back in.
This infernal woman just can’t make this easy on me, can she?
“Yes,” I admit, feeling like I'm swallowing broken glass.
“In that case…” She smirks. “I don't accept.”
I open my mouth to speak, but taken aback at her refusal, I snap it shut, unsure how to respond. That's not a normal response. When someone apologizes, you accept it. It's just…what you do. Compulsory. Automatic.
I fold my arms over my broad chest. “What do you mean you don't accept? You have to.”
“Do I? Hmm…” Lena feigns a thought, then shakes her head. “I don’t believe I have to do anything.”
“It's the polite thing to do.”
She laughs, a husky, sensual sound. “When did I ever give you the impression I was polite?”
Seeing her mask fall to humor, I can't help but share in her amusement as I shake my head at our ridiculous conversation. “Most say thank you when someone apologizes.”
Her smile spreads wider. “If it's sincere, yes, but yours was not. If I'm going to thank anyone, it'll be Aurora.”
Grinning from ear to ear, I toss my palms up, conceding defeat. I can see this isn't a conversation I can win. I'm guessing that's quite common for the witty woman. With eyes glittering with mischief, she reaches across the round table centered within the room and grabs a garishly jeweled push dagger. Touching the tip of the blade with the pad of her finger, she grimaces at the useless weapon and places it back down.
Noticing the pile of daggers she’s set aside, I slip my thumbs into the pockets of my trousers, rounding the table to stand beside her. “What does someone who trades leather need with all these knives?”
Her smile slips, and she drops her gaze from mine as she leans over the table to retrieve a dirk with a simple, leather-bound hilt. Hair slipping past her shoulder, it curtains her face and I itch to touch it until she lifts one vambraced hand to curl the raven locks behind her ear. “Normally they wouldn't, but I travel quite a bit. There's no shortage of males who fail to understand the word no.” She flips the knife end over end and when she catches it by the hilt, a sinister smile curls her lips. “I'd be foolish not to take the necessary steps to protect myself.”
Watching her flip the dagger as if she’s done it a thousand times before, I realize I've uncovered the real reason why females were never allowed in the Guard. Not because they're incapable, but because males are incapable of controlling themselves at such a sight. I never thought a woman handling a dagger would be erotic, but judging off the way my dick perks up at the display, it appears I’m wrong.
Internally scolding myself, I clear my throat along with my thoughts. “Isn't that why you hired Zander and Tristan? For protection?”
She rolls her eyes. “Yes, but why would I depend wholly on someone else? I've got two hands, two arms.” She waves the point of the dagger in my direction. “They're just as capable as anyone else to wield a sword or raise a knife.”
“I can see that,” I smirk, bemused by the feisty woman. “Where is Zander? Not much of a protector if he’s not near you.”
“Are you trying to say I'm not safe with you?” she teases.
“Hmm, no.” I feign consideration before motioning towards the dirk. “But after seeing your skills, I suspect I'm the one who's unsafe.”
Lena laughs, adding the dirk to the pile. “Zander went to the market. He's in need of fresh clothing and according to him, only females wash clothes.”
A loud guffaw rips from my chest, surprising me just as much as her. “Gods, he didn't actually say that, did he?” Swiveling to face her, I seat myself partially on top of the table, curling my fingers over the edge.
“Basically, word for word.” She giggles, an innocently sweet sound that's otherwise contradictory to the formidable woman I’ve only begun to uncover. It's alluring and intriguing, unfortunately endearing me to her even more.
“And how did that go over?”
“I twisted his nipple,” she replies, her expression deadpanned.
Shocked, I suck in a breath before howling in laughter. “He's lucky that's all he got!” I say between laughs.
“To be honest, he should be thanking me. I thought Amara was going to stab him.” Her eyes widen. “All she had was a spoon, but she's very creative when she’s feeling stabby.”
At the thought of an angry Amara stabbing an unsuspecting Zander with only a spoon, I laugh even harder, clutching my stomach and widening my legs as I drop my head between my thighs.
Uriella’s Light, I don't remember the last time I laughed that hard. If ever.
Laughter tapering off, I slowly straighten and lift my head. My laughter cuts off when I notice that Lena has stepped closer, standing practically between my thighs. Her nearness is unexpected, surprising even, but that's not what causes my mouth to dry out or my heart to stutter in my chest. It's the look in her eyes.
Amethyst orbs filled to overflowing with adoration and blatant raw affection. Both sentiments, so profound, so devastating, it feels like a boulder has slammed into my chest and I can't suck in the air needed to take a breath. No one has ever looked at me that way. It's not even something I dared to wish for, knowing full well it's something I’d never receive. So warm and tender, it’s as if she sees into my soul and found something good. Something desirable. Like I’m worthy of more than what life's given me. Worthy of someone like her.
She blinks, her cheeks flooding crimson as she startles herself back into the moment, finally becoming aware of where she’s positioned herself. She moves to take a step back, attempting to put space between us, but she’s halted when I snatch at her wrist, holding her in place as I try to come up with a plausible explanation as to why I can't let her go. Unable to do so, I grip her tighter and instead change the subject, hoping she doesn't question me further.
“So, Zander went shopping,” I say. “And you didn't join him?”
