“This isn’t the some imagined horror under your bed! This is an actual crime boss.”
His hand fell on her knee, like he was attempting to soothe her rising tone and it drew both their eyes as the carriage fell silent. He withdrew his hand, but it was too late. Sera slowly brought her gaze up his body, anxious of what she would find when she reached his eyes. Need? Lust? Did he want her as badly as she wanted him?
Her eyes stopped on his face and… his expression was unmasked, unmistakable horror.
Kieran sensed the slip of his control. He was quite beyond salvaging the moment. Agony was no doubt visible on his face. This woman had put him through a whirlwind of emotions in just a few hours. The pleasing distraction of her Game was shadowed by the stress of not knowing if he would reach her in time. When an elderly woman had pointed down the alley and said a young lady had been chased down it, he expected to find a corpse.
Yet, Sera was unscathed. The relief had been as overwhelming as the fear. He did not normally swing to such intensities.
Sera was dangerous. Not only because of his unintended attraction to her—which was a hindrance, even if a manageable one—but because her continued proximity put him at risk of his greatest fear.
Though, logically, she was far from the sort of person he would associate with if given the choice, she was also surprising and charming. There was a keen intelligence to her that she played off as stupidity, a fault of logic that still rankled, yet the depths of her reasoning were all the more intriguing. He felt drawn not only to her physically, but to protect her, to right the wrongs of her past, to prove that not everyone requires payment from her.
He was not normally the hero sort. He was born with a rare gift, one that he did not choose, and it became his purpose to use that ability for others. It was not done of altruism or for the glory or any sort of ‘rush’ gleaned from saving a life. It was pure obligation. After the failures of his past, saving others had become a responsibility. Kieran was a public servant. Not a hero. Then why, in the Divine’s name, did he wish to be hers?
A dangerous and unwelcome development. His hand on her leg—an emotional attempt to soothe and placate her growing anxiety and a gesture far outside the purview of acceptable civility—had happened instinctively. Thank the gods for the layers of her skirts or he would have found himself rattled by the glaring dangers of Sera Blair. His isolation over the years rendered him… intolerant to touch. He still needed a way to remedy his reactions to her physically.
I should end her Game here and now. Make it clear that there can be no more shared contact or personal exchanges between us.
Logic was typically his strongest impulse, prompting most of his actions. Yet now, even knowing the danger she presented,he kept his mouth shut. He ignored the wiser choice of limiting ways for Sera to initiate contact. It was foolish, but he simply couldn’t bring himself to cut off the possibility completely. It seemed some buried, suffocated part of him was getting stronger and demanded that logic shut the fuck up for once.
“North? Is everything alright?”
He met her eyes, blinking away the rampant train of his thoughts. He had already removed his hand, but the gesture lingered on his skin. A warm presence that wouldn’t dissipate no matter how hard his fist contracted.
I will not care about her.
He offered a stiff nod before turning to the window. No more meeting her dark, pleading eyes or he might do something he would regret. This day had taken a toll on him and he feared he was not as in control as he preferred.
When the carriage halted at the entrance to the Winter Court, Kieran sprang from his seat and instructed Joy to ensure Sera arrived home safely. It occurred to him he’d been meaning to let Joy go, but so much had happened it slipped his mind. It would have to be done sooner or later, the very fact that he trusted his driver to ensure Sera’s safety was proof enough they had reached a level of camaraderie Kieran couldn’t allow.
Tomorrow. He'd worry about it tomorrow.
He took a different path. One more taxing and less maintained. Walking, then running. Feeling the cold like a welcomed caress after so long in the warmer city. He’d removed the glacite from his carriage when he decided to take Sera to work with him. Another gesture to appease her, to make her more comfortable. Another step closer to affection.
Kieran rubbed his face with his hands, blessedly alone in the untamed woods along the eastern borders of the court. Blessedly free to savor the crunch of the fresh snowfall. Free to scatter the unmarred crystalline ocean into a flurry of disorder with hisboots. Free to draw his fingers through his hair until the neatly arranged strands stuck at odd angles.
The dark sky loomed overhead released a fresh layer of snow as if nature sensed how much he needed it. Kieran turned his face up to the clouds and let the crystals melt on his cheeks until the rioting emotions settled and calm was restored.
It was much later when he returned home, hoping Sera had already retired for the evening.
He headed for the kitchen for something to eat. He’d missed supper and the daily staff clocked out at seven. The few servants who lived in the estate were not assigned cooking details.
“Ah, shit.”
The voice from the kitchen stopped him cold. Kieran closed his eyes. Of course, the universe was full of cruel humor. A little snow to fool him into security and now he would find the one person in the world he hoped to avoid. He should turn around.
“No, no—”
Crash.
Kieran rushed into the kitchen to find Sera, teetering on a chair, balancing a plate and a jar in one arm and staring down at the shattered remains of a teacup.
“Oh, um, I can explain,” she started, but he was not in the mood for banter. He simply offered a hand, keeping his eyes away from her as her weight sank onto him. He attempted to ignore her radiating heat, the ripples of pleasure igniting down his arm, the mind-numbing sensation of her soft skin. He steeled his features, staring straight ahead as she maneuvered to the floor. Fought the incessant need to close his fingers over hers, seal the gesture and perhaps draw her closer—if her hand was overwhelming, then all of her would be—
He pulled his arm away. Flexing away the lingering pulse in his hand before retrieving the broom.
“I can do that.”
