Xavier stops tossing the knife, catching it one last time. He shifts in the chair, and I stiffen, thinking he’s going to come toward me. Instead, he places his forearms on his thighs and lets his hands rest in the opening between his legs, the knife hanging from his fingertips. It’s a casual pose, but not with him. He’s a predator ready to attack, his muscles going taut under his clothing.
He’s wearing his customary black t-shirt, black cargo pants, and boots. I scan his body for signs of injury or illness but find nothing to indicate he’s unwell. It only makes this conversation more bizarre.
“Your behavior is a problem, Delilah.”
I purse my lips. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”
“You’ve been fraternizing with crows.”
His eyes flicker to the door and then my throat. Or maybe I’m just paranoid. In the dim lighting, I could’ve imagined the way he pointedly looked at my neck like he knows what Eric did to me. If Xavier does know, it’s not because I told him.
“And if I was?” I ask, my irritation rising to the surface.
He rises from the chair like a wraith from the mist. I wait for his reprimand, but he suddenly pivots and throws the knife. It slices through the air and finds its mark in the crest above the fireplace. The blade is buried deep inside the crow’s head, embedded into the wood, the handle quivering from the force of the impact.
The skill and control is impressive, but it’s also a warning, a silent message of what he’s capable of.
I jump at the display of violence, my eyes widening and darting between Xavier and the knife. He turns back around to face me, his expression blank, but his eyes gleam with rage.
“You deliberately went to Benjamin after I told you not to,” he says.
I lift my chin. “He’s family. You have nothing to worry about.”
“Do you know what crows do, little raptor? They lie, steal, and kill.”
“Well, maybe you should convince me that you want me as a bride instead of letting someone else do it.”
Without a word, Xavier stalks toward the bed and reaches out to snatch the blanket. He rips it from my body, leavingme exposed in nothing except his t-shirt and my panties. After gripping the headboard, he straddles my hips, his chest brushing mine.
My breathing halts when he snatches my jaw and lifts my head, forcing my gaze to his. “Who’s doing the convincing, Delilah?”
“Ben.”
His expression darkens. “Don’t lie.”
“I’m not. He’s the one who said you wouldn’t trade me for another bride.”
His gaze narrows. “Why would you think that?”
I bite my lip as my jealousy bleeds all over my heart, painting it green. Xavier’s silver eyes glint with something carnal before he uses his thumb to pull my bottom lip from between my teeth.
“Stop fucking distracting me,” he says. “Why would you think I’d want to trade you?”
“Brenda.” Although his body is pressed to mine and his fingers are on my skin, her name is a wedge between us.
“What did she tell you?” he asks.
“That you two have history.”
“And you believed her? She’s an addict.”
I shrug. “I saw you guys leave the garden library together. I saw the way she looked at you and heard the way she said your name. She wants to be your bride.”
He scoffs and shakes his head. “If I wanted her, she’d be mine.”
Profound relief sweeps through me like a cool breeze. I hate myself for it. I could lie to myself and say it’s because I’m scared to be Eric’s bride, but I know it’s more than that.
I don’t want Xavier to give me up.
