“Can I see?” Jean asked.
Bathin shot me a quick look.
“Please?” she begged. “C’mon, Delaney. Let me see the shinies.”
“Go ahead,” I said. “She’ll bug me forever if you don’t.”
Bathin placed the bundle on the counter and flipped back the cloth.
“Holy shit, those are gorgeous,” Jean said. “And look at you all Conan the Barbarian in those tight jeans and T-shirt. If I weren’t dating someone, I might chat you up.”
Bathin gave her a killer smile and shifted his stance. “You like?”
“Oh, gods. You’re posing,” I said.
He flexed his arms, making his biceps pop. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Hey, handsome,” Myra said, leading Tish-me into the room. She’d left Tish in handcuffs, which was prudent. “Who are you posing for?”
“You, babe,” he said. “Only you.”
Jean cooed and fluttered her eyelashes at him and Myra. Myra guided Tish to sit in front of my desk. Tish’s eyes, well, mine, were wide and their face was slack with awe.
“My Prince?” Tish breathed. “I am not worthy?” Tish bent forward, gaze on the floor.
“Tish,” Bathin said, as he rewrapped the weapons. “I hear you’ve been working with my brother.”
“Yes, my Prince?”
I raised an eyebrow. That was more than I’d been able to get out of them.
“Lift your head, Tish.” Bathin tucked the weapons under his arm again. “You are going to answer the Reed sisters’ questions now.”
“Yes, my Prince?”
“You will tell them the truth.”
Tish hesitated.
“Tish. That was not a request,” Bathin said.
I knew Bathin. He rarely took this stance, this…command.
Bathin was a prince of hell: royalty. It was impossible to miss the power behind his words.
“I will gift you with a skin,” Bathin said.
Tish’s eyes flew up to meet Bathin’s gaze.
“Truly, my Prince?”
“If you answer the Reed sisters truthfully.”
Tish swallowed. “I will? Yes? I will?”
“Good.”
Bathin handed the bundle to Myra. “They’re heavy,” he noted before letting go of the full weight of the weapons.
