Sin’s mouth quirks up in a corner at my answer. “Say you’ll train more after we eat, and I’ll apparate us out.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Food. We’re eating food at the table in the dining room.”
Am I being paranoid that he’s adding subtle sexual connotations to his words?
Absolutely.
But in my defense, the man has seen me nearly naked too many times over the last twenty-four hours and has made enough sexual innuendos that I’m suddenly questioning if he’s as repulsed by me as I think he is.
If Sin and I are going to be partners for the foreseeable future, then I need us to build a professional relationship. Otherwise, this entire endeavor will get very messy, very quickly.
How hard can it be?
Sin pushes off the wall, and there’s a playfulness to him that catches me off guard as he approaches me. “Such a dirty mind, kitten,” he teases as he takes my hand. But instead of apparating us to the dining room right away, he yanks on me, pulling me into him. His mouth ghosts across my ear as he adds, “And don’t think for a second that I wouldn’t spread you open over that table and devour you.”
And then we apparate out.
Chapter 22
Rule twenty-two:Do not report your partner to human resources.
The next few days go by in a blur ofsweat. Sin has taken over all my training, and unlike the others who were more than happy to have me flitting between them during the day, he does not share my time. I’m kept busy from sunup to sundown and always at his side. The only time I see the others is at mealtimes, and even then, I’m so exhausted that I barely pay attention to their banter.
After my first ‘easy’ training day, Sin started pushing me harder in the arena. When I hold back, he’s relentless in pissing me off until I give everything I have. He isn’t particularly nice about it, but I know he’s doing it to keep me alive. In those moments, I think of him more as a vaccine.
Just anothernecessary prick.
At least our working relationship is becoming somewhat less toxic. Sin hasn’t called me a whore since the day I got my memories back. And I’ve committed to keeping things professional, not wanting to sexually harass him again.
Of course, that doesn’t mean Sin has stopped sexually harassing me. He hasn’t cut back on making sexually charged comments. If anything, I think he’s gotten worse. When I tried to lodge a complaint with my human resources representative (Morgana), Sin had me doing sit-ups for an hour, lecturing me about solving my own problems. When I asked him why his hormones were my problem, he threw me around extra hard in the arena. He wasn’t even remotely grateful when I offered him a tampon.
Sad.
Despite Sin’s general moodiness, I’ve now seen him laugh twice. The first was when I told him I’d stab him in the eye if he made me do any more planks. The second was when I was supposed to tackle him, and I took a second to warn him that this might hurt. He laughed hard after that.
Insulting? Yes.
But after going through years of solitude and finally making friends who made me laugh all the time, I’m not ready to lose that. Especially since Sin and I are set to be partners for the foreseeable future. I’ve made it my mission to break through his walls and make him laugh.
If he’s a vaccine, then I’m determined to be an incurable plague.
I’ll wear him down.
Mercifully, Sin has drawn the line at making me run since my leg is still healing. Damien has also stopped coming to my door to wake me up for our morning runs, and I’m not bringing it up with him. I assume it’s because my leg has a giant gash across it. Unfortunately, that means I have the warlord-wannabe invading my personal space every morning.
He’s here now, tossing a knife and catching it as he leans against the wall beside my dresser. He took one look at me after apparating into my room and has been staring at my floor ever since. I assume it might have something to do with the lace bralette I’m wearing. I threw the blankets over me the second he arrived, but I’m guessing he caught a peek because he’s back to looking uncomfortable. And honestly, it serves him right for refusing to believe in boundaries.
“The Mortal Realm has this thing called weekends,” I argue. “I have been working non-stop since getting here, and I want a day off.”
Sin’s jaw flexes, and he tosses the knife again. “You are going to be fighting supernatural creatures much more powerful than you. You need to get stronger.”
“And if you don’t give me a break, I’m going to burn out,” I argue.
My body is screaming this morning, with knots appearing in places I didn’t realize existed.
“Burning out is better than death. Stop being a whiny princess,” he counters.
I throw a pillow at him. He dodges it easily, smirking. “See, you’re still slow.”
