CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
Cecilia looked awayfrom Sloane quickly, unsettled by the accuracy with which he’d hit her where she was most vulnerable. Clearing her throat, she summoned up her usual cheerful veneer and announced, “All right, champ! If you want to be my mate, then we need to get this date rolling.”
He inclined his head. Holding one hand out toward the restaurant in a stiff but gentlemanly gesture, he said, “Yes, madam.”
Her nose wrinkled. “Madam? I don’t think I like that.”
“It’s the respectful form of address for an adult female in elvish society,” he explained. After a brief pause, he added, “But I can call you whatever you prefer.”
“Cece works,” she answered, spinning on her heel to face the restaurant. “If you’re feeling lovey-dovey you can call me honey or baby, but absolutelynosweethearts. I got way too many of those from random vampires in the bar.”
Gravel crunched beneath her feet but somehow didn’t seem to make a noise under his boots as they strode toward the brightly lit outdoor dining area. The only other customers were a couple of puffy jacket-clad teenagers huddled around a plastictable, their mouths glued to red and white striped straws as they sucked down what Cecilia could only assume were milkshakes.
“I…” Sloane trailed off, uncharacteristically uncertain.
“What?” She nudged his side with her elbow. “C’mon. Spit it out.”
“I have a… name for you. That I use. In my mind.”
Stopping in her tracks, she demanded, “What is it?”
Sloane stopped walking. His posture was always perfectly straight, but he appeared somehow stiffer than normal when he admitted, “Doe.”
She blinked. “You said that before, I think. I didn’t really catch it at the time but… Wait, do you mean likedoeas in cute deer ordoughas in pizza, because?—”
“Doe as in deer,” he confirmed.
Nudging him again, this time to get them walking, she asked, “What made you think of that?”
Without hesitation, he answered, “You’re small, cute, and defenseless.”
Squawking, she forgot who she was talking to when she slapped his arm with the back of her hand. “Hey! I know you elves are built like you were made in a lab, but arrants aren’tcompletelydefenseless!”
Sloane snatched her hand before it’d had the chance to bounce off his impressive bicep. Holding it with infinite care, he smoothed the pad of his thumb over the hills and valleys of her palm. “Correct. You command me. That makes you the most dangerous creature of all.”
If her face got any hotter, she was fairly certain her eyebrows would catch on fire.
“You know, if you wanna hold my hand, you don’t have to whip out all these smooth one-liners,” she teased, hoping to distract him from the way said one-liner absolutely worked on her.
Sloane’s grip tightened a fraction when he asked, “You would let me hold your hand?”
Good gods in the sky. This man really is a deadly weapon.
Aware she was probably being suckered, Cecilia hoarsely replied, “Yeah, I would.”
In an entirely unsurprising turn of events, Sloane wasn’t very good at the whole hand-holding business. Marveling at the fact that he apparently thought he was supposed to hold her entire appendage in his fist, she had to gently correct his grip.
“There,” she announced when they were much more comfortably situated. “How does that feel?”
“This is another tactical disadvantage,” he replied. “If a threat approached, my dominant hand would be compromised. My reaction time would be slowed and that would provide an opening to an enemy.”
Moving to slide her hand out of his, she said, “Well, we don’thaveto?—”
“No.” His grip tightened, refusing to let her go. “I will compensate.”
Tucking her chin to hide her ridiculous, smitten smile, Cecilia tugged her stalker toward the counter. Pretending like she didn’t notice the cashier’s alarmed scan of her bruises or the even more panicked look he aimed at the obviously military-affiliated elf holding her hand, she cranked up her smile to megawatt status.
