Some of the tension eases from my muscles. I’ve heard about the healing power of Sinless blood, a miraculous albeit dangerous commodity. A scarce one too. Since acquiring it would rely on the generosity of the blessed ones who care little for common citizens, it’s hard to come by, even for those willing to pay the price of addiction.
“I may be addicted to this surly bastard’s blood,” Calvin says, “but I’d be dead were it not for him.”
I expect at least a verbal lashing for having just called his master a surly bastard, but Dominic merely shakes his head and approaches the back of the wagon. “We’re off to a fine fucking start, aren’t we?” he mutters under his breath as he unlatches the locks securing the endgate. He lowers it and waves us forward, unfazed by our distrustful expressions. “We’ll be on the road again tonight. Stretch your legs. Eat. Rest.”
Bard makes the first move to exit the wagon, then Harlow.
“I made stew,” Calvin says, tilting his head toward the ruins. “I can almost assure you it’s edible.”
Dominic remains at the foot of the wagon as I prepare to descend. I hesitate, staring down at him, arms crossed. “Are you going to feed from us like you feed from him?”
He holds my gaze without falter. “Calvin is my dedicated source, and I have no plans to feed from anyone else.”
“What if something were to happen to him?”
“Then yes,” he says, jaw tight, “I would need a new source.”
Nausea turns my stomach, though I suppose I should be grateful he didn’t lie. I still don’t know if hecanlie.
Arching a brow, he holds out a hand.
What a godsdamned gentleman. I scoff and descend from the wagon without his aid. But as my feet hit the ground, he steps in close, chest almost brushing mine as my backside slams against the lowered endgate. “Careful, Seamstress. Flaunt your ire so boldly, and I might start to think you have it out for me. Remember what I said were your keys to surviving the next six months?”
I glare up at him, annoyed that I have to tilt my head to meet someone’s eyes for once. Of course I recall what he said. Listen, obey, and don’t betray him. I’m about to say as much, but whatever was going to leave my lips dries on my tongue, my mind halting as my eyes lock on his face. This is the first time I’ve been so close to the Shadowbane during daylight. It’s a shock to find his eyes so near mine, each of his thick black lashes on display. While I first noted his eyes were a dark brown, I now see they’re flecked with green. His tanned skin is decorated with slender scars, one of which runs beneath his cheekbone along the line of his bearded jaw. It’s so thin, I’d only be able to see it from this close. My gaze lifts to his forehead, where bronze strands highlight his dark hair where the sunlight hits just right—
His brows lower into a questioning look, which reminds me I’m staring.
Fucking staring like some youthful maiden who’s never seen a handsome face before. Which, yes, heishandsome. I’d be a fool to pretend otherwise, even though it fills me with no small amount of rage. I can’t find a man who pinned me to the ground and threatened me attractive. I can’t find aSinlessattractive, not even a halfsoul like him. Because even though I’ll never admit such a treasonous thought out loud, I despise the Sinless. All of them. Protectors of mankind or no, I hate them, and he’s one of them.
I could never have feelings for this man. Not good ones, at least.
A corner of his mouth quirks up, just like how he smirked when he welcomed us to his crew in the hall outside the Wretched Lair. For the first time, I catch a glint of his canines. They don’t appear to be as elongated as a pure Sinless’s, but they’re sharp nonetheless. “Did you mean to get lost in my eyes?” he says, a note of taunting in his voice.
“Hardly,” I bite out, stepping back. “I was…surprised you had a face, that’s all, after seeing nothing but your back for hours straight.”
“Are you saying you missed my face?”
“Absolutely not. It’s hardly distinguishable from your ass.”
“Because they’re both so nice to look at?”
My cheeks burn hot. What the hell is he playing at? Is he…flirting with me? This bastard has been nothing but curt and cold since wemet. A man of few expressions and even fewer words. I’m stuck gaping before I can form a coherent reply. “Neither is nice to look at.”
“Careful,” he says, his smirk deepening until a dimple pops just above the line of his beard. “You may not be able to see them during daylight, but they’re there. And they can still tell me when you’re lying, sinner.”
The whisper of a phantom touch grazes my chin, but it’s gone before I can attempt to swat it away. With that, Dominic turns his back and saunters toward the cottage.
With my heart pounding faster than I care to admit, I follow, all the while seething over the words we just exchanged. They replay through my mind again and again until my eyes drop down to his ass, seeking an answer to whether it really is as nice as his face.
Just as quickly, I snap my gaze away and scold myself for my curiosity.
Because, fucking hell, it’s a nice ass indeed.
Chapter Seven
Dominic
Inana Westwood is going to be a problem. I suspected as much when she elbowed me in the gut and ran from me at the Wretched Lair. Now I’m certain of it, thanks to…whatever just happened between us.
