His gaze drags down the length of me and then back up, unhurried and unapologetic.
My nostrils flare at the perusal and I barely swallow down a retort as the other draws my attention.
He’s slightly leaner than the first and maybe an inch shorter, but the real difference that hits me is in the way he carries himself. He seems more fluid, loose-limbed and self-assured, like the space will bend around him if he decides it. Dark jeans hang just right on his frame, and the sleeves of his black shirt are rolled to the elbow, exposing forearms lined with bulging veins.
His hair has more warmth to it, and the curling tips fall into his crystalline blue eyes. His features come across softer, despite his sharp cheekbones. Perhaps it’s the way his full lips are curved up in a way that hovers somewhere between a smirk and a dare. The sound of my pounding heart fills my ears suddenly as his gaze slides over me, lingering in places that make heat lick up the back of my neck. When his eyes meet mine again, it’s as if they're daring me to call him on it.
I glance between them, simultaneously intrigued and feeling like prey underneath their gazes.
I need to get out of here, now. This isn’t what I came to this realm for.
“I–” My tongue seems to tangle as I attempt to formulate words that might lessen their interest in me. “I’m sorry for shoving between you. I just saw the door closing and thought–”
“Just thought you’d trespass?” The smirking one tilts his head, his gaze dragging down and up again in a slow sweep that sends my stomach turning. “Bold.”
The taller one narrows his dark blue gaze, not moving closer, but somehow making the space between us feel smaller with the movement. “More like desperate. I can practically smell it.”
My eyes flare widely as my head jerks back. I’m not used to people talking to me this way. In Sanguis, even the people whoI knew hated me wrapped their insults with a cushion, knowing the status I hold.
This moment feels raw and real. No filters. No regard for who I am.
It also showcases how fucking rude they are. Maybe I should be thankful for the anonymity I have here. It already allows me to see people for who they really are.
“I said I’m sorry,” I manage to force out between my tightly clenched jaw, squaring my shoulders. To hell with pleasantries. “You don’t have to be such assholes about it.”
The taller one lets out a humorless laugh that doesn’t reach his eyes as he takes a step back finally. “Sweetheart, if that’s your idea of an apology, no wonder you’ve got to force your way into buildings. Doors open when you have decorum.”
Sweetheart. The word isn’t endearing. It’s bait dangled before me, sharp, gleaming, and taunting me to take it.
Don’t do it, I chant internally to myself as my lips thin.
The other one lets out a low, humorless laugh. “You shove your way between us, andwe’rethe assholes? Tell that to my bruised ribs.”
My head snaps toward him, and I can’t hold back the snark rising within me any longer.
“Please.” I lift my chin, refusing to look away. “If my small shoulders are enough to hurt you, you should probably be more worried about your own fragility. Maybe try lifting weights in the gym instead of your egos.”
The smirker’s grin blooms wider, slow and deliberate.
Now you’ve done it.So much for losing their interest.
He peels off the wall and closes the space between us in two unhurried steps. Cedar, smoke, and the faint bite of whiskey wraps around me. “Careful,” he murmurs, tilting his head so his mouth is near my ear, “talking like that makes me want to see what else you can throw your weight into.”
My breath catches before I can stop it. Heat flares low in my belly, unwanted and impossible to ignore.
Why am I attracted to assholes?
Every single man I’ve tried to date has eventually shown that side of themselves. It’s starting to feel like I’m a magnet for them, and no matter how much I think they’ll change with time, they never do.
“Or maybe you should work on keeping that mouth shut,” the dark-haired one says evenly, stealing my attention out of my peripheral vision.
The words land sharp, cutting under my skin in a way that makes me want to tell him exactly who I am and exactly why rules have never applied to me. But that’s not who I came here to be.
His gaze slides toward the one standing back to his full height, giving me space to breathe once more. “Callum, you’ve always had bad taste in toxic women. Let’s go.”
My lips part in disbelief as I blink at him before blurting out, “Toxic? We’ve exchanged, what, a few sentences? That’s a hell of a leap to make, considering you started this off with insults.”
The one with bright blue eyes he called Callum doesn’t even look at him, his attention still fully on me.
