“Never mind,” Larsinc said. “What was it you wanted?”
“We want to know who you are and where you’re from,” Faura blurted, brushing her giant breasts against his arm.
“Not to hire me?” he asked.
“Well, that would depend. What do you do? Exactly,” Cleery said.
He drew in a breath and exhaled impatiently, then sat down. “Go back to the school.”
The others looked disappointed, but when he ignored them for several moments, they finally started to move away. Gissandre joined the retreat until his voice reached her.
“Not you, Gissandre.”
The other four gave her a mix of murderous and envious looks.
“So you knew him all along. Dead realms, I’ll get even with you for this,” Cleery spat.
Giss remained silent until they had their wraps on and were out of the tavern.
“What would you have done if I’d been interested in one of them?” he asked.
“Nothing. What business is it of mine?”
“None,” he agreed. “The master can pet anyone he wants.”
She narrowed her eyes. “So go ahead. Go after Faura. She certainly rubbed against you like you were a scratching post.”
His arms caught her and pulled her onto his lap. She squirmed until he whispered in her ear. “Are you sore, little pet?”
“You know I am,” she said, grinding her teeth. “Let go.”
“No. Sit still.”
“I can’t. Let me go.”
“You can. Be still.”
She continued to squirm.
“Settle. Or I’ll take you to my hotel room to punish you some more.”
She sucked in a breath. “You swore you’d never do that again as long as I didn’t put us in jeopardy. This isn’t!”
He tangled a hand in her hair and drew her head to his shoulder against her will. His other arm around her waist locked her in place. “I’ll punish you every time you disobey me. It’ll never be as harsh as the other night unless you do something to earn it, but it will hurt, and you will be sore afterward.”
Her restlessness spiraled, but she was smart enough to know she’d never get away while he held onto her. She needed a different tactic and thought of one.
* * *
Linc held the twisting girl tightly, enjoying the feel of imprisoning her soft body against his. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but trapping her was the best sport he’d ever engaged in.
“All right,” she huffed, sliding her arms over his shoulders and melting against his torso. “I give up.”
“Is that right?” he said skeptically, her capitulation a sweet treat, even if it wouldn’t last. She’d had daggers in her eyes when she walked into the tavern. He doubted she was finished with her fury yet. He tightened his hold.
“Don’t you care that I’m hurt?” she whispered. “Don’t you feel the least bit sorry for me?”
“You got what you deserved,” he said firmly.
