My thoughts are answered a second later when Sin appears in the doorway.
I am so unbelievably screwed.
The man is dressed all in black, save for a small green silk square in his shirt pocket that perfectly matches my dress. His beard has been trimmed back and neatened. It does nothing to tame his warlord appearance. He still looks deadly.
My stomach does a flip, and I swallow, trying to remember how to small talk.
Sin looks me up and down twice before frowning as he walks to me.
My insecurities flood back at his expression. “What? I told Arianna to let me wear a shawl to hide them, but she vetoed the idea.”
Sin pauses a few feet before me, looking confused. “Hide what?”
I flush, hating that he’s making me spell it out. “The scars,” I mutter, staring at the floor and ready to wear a raincoat if it means avoiding this conversation.
“Why the fuck do you think I’m looking at your scars?” Sin asks incredulously.
My eyes shoot back to his. “You looked at me, and you frowned. I assumed.”
My insecurity is quickly being replaced by irritation with Sin.
What a promising start to the evening.
Sin narrows his eyes. “I’m still waiting on the names of whoever gave you those scars,” he says before pausing and giving me a pointed look. “But for now, I’m frustrated because you’re unarmed, aren’t you?”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I’m too taken aback by his words.
Sin steps forward, and he’s back to invading my bubble.
He’s been doing it more and more these past few days.
“Answer me, kitten. Were you about to go into a crowd of people, who we have no formal ties to, without a weapon?” he asks.
I chew on my lower lip, likely messing up some of Arianna’s makeup, trying to find a way to answer him so I don’t look like an idiot.
I’m unsuccessful.
Sin reaches over, pulling my lip from my teeth and tilting my chin so I’m looking up at him. His gray eyes are darker, almost stormy.
“I forgot,” I whisper.
Sin growls, releasing my chin. I take a step back, but he follows me.
“So, are you ready to go back to being a Council whore then? Expecting everyone else to fight for you?” His voice is cruel.
I keep backing up, not wanting to be so close to him, especially while he’s being mean. But Sin just stalks me across the room until my back is pressed against the wall.
“You know that’s not true,” I snap, my voice a bit louder than expected.
Sin cages me between him and the wall, but he doesn’t press himself against me.
“Then do better, kitten,” he hisses, still very angry.
He kneels in front of me, and I stare at him, confused for a moment, until he lifts my foot and slips something around it. He pushes it up my leg, using the slit in my dress to gain access to my upper thigh.
His hands brush against my stockings, burning a path everywhere they touch. My breathing picks up.
So screwed.
