Sloane’s helmet tilted to one side. “You’re amused. Why?”
Scooching backward, Cecilia tucked herself under the covers between bouts of giggles. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re really cute, Sloane?”
“No.”
“That’s a shame.” She patted the space beside her. “I’m pretty sure you’re a sweetheart. You should be called cute at least once a week. Probably more.”
Sloane crouched low to crawl onto the bed. It shifted sharply under his greater weight, but he still managed to move with all the grace of a big cat as he slipped under the covers. “I… don’t know the appropriate response to that.”
Cheeks cramping a little, she flopped back into the pillows. “That’s okay. I don’t mind if you don’t always know the right thing to say to me. No one knows the right thing to say all the time, anyway.”
Sloane’s helmet settled on the pillow beside hers. In a quiet voice, he challenged, “You do.”
Pulling the comforter up over her shoulder, she watched the way the twinkle lights gleamed off the curve of his helmet. He lay flat on his back, his hands folded on his middle and his legs perfectly straight. He looked a bit like an alien trying to fool her into believing he slept.
Despite the strangeness of it, she was comfortable. More than comfortable.
Sloane smelled like leather and musk and clean soap. His body heat immediately began to permeate the bedding, tantalizing her.
Aware that he was almost certainly not a cuddler, she resisted the urge to glue herself to his side and suck up his warmth like a little snuggle vampire.
“You think I’m pretty great, don’t you?” she asked, not to fish for compliments but to hear his honest response.
“I do,” he answered.
Cecilia’s giddiness dimmed a little. Letting out a slow exhale, she dared to touch one corded bicep with the tips of her fingers. “I’m just a regular person, Sloane. I’m glad you think I’m special, but I don’t think it’s right to worship me.” She shook her head against the pillow. “I’m kind of a mess, actually. Always have been. Even my own parents didn’t think I was worth much. The only person who likes me even half as much as you is Dahlia.”
Sloane didn’t move when she touched him, but she was fascinated by the way the muscles of his arm twitched and shivered with even her slightest touch. She did it again, just to see, when she explained, “Not to get into the meat and potatoes of my trauma or anything, but my parents really hated each other. Don’t ask me why they stayed married because I honestly don’t know. But suffice it to say I spent most of my childhoodtrying to fix what was broken and failing. That meant my parents didn’t really… well, they weren’t very focused on me.”
“Is this the reason you want to teach young?”
Cecilia shrugged. “Maybe. I like them. They’re the best of us, and I know what it feels like to be an overlooked kid. Helping them be happy and healthy and prepared for the world is— I’m sure you get it.”
She peered closely at his helmet. “Why did you decide to join Patrol?”
Sloane’s big hand crawled across the mattress to find the curve of her waist. Settling it there like he worried she’d tell him no, he answered, “I did not.”
“You didn’t what?”
“I didn’t choose,” he clarified.
Mimicking her pose, Sloane turned on his side. Apparently emboldened by the fact that she didn’t push him away, he slipped his hand around her back to begin dragging her closer.
Her breath caught as he tucked her against him. His warmth blazed through the thin material of her pajamas, stoking that ever-burning fire of desire in her belly. Not being able to see his face squished on the pillow bothered her, but when she slung her arm over his middle to hug him back… It was all right. Maybe even more than all right.
Maybe it was even something awfully close to perfect.
In a softer voice, she asked, “What do you mean you didn’t choose?”
“I was taken from my parents by the former sovereign when I was six years old and conscripted into service.” Sloane played with the tips of her hair. He rubbed the strands between his fingers in a slow, repetitive way that made her heart ache. “My parents were killed when they rebelled and tried to take me back. This life is all I’ve ever known.”
“Sloane…”
“I wasn’t raised like you,” he continued, like he had to get the words out before he lost courage. “I was trained to fight and kill and serve. We weren’t given luxuries or comforts. All the good things in my life were taken from me or used as weapons against me. Ifyouare a mess, then I’m something far worse. I’m Thaddeus’s discarded weapon.”
Cecilia’s eyes stung. Blinking quickly, she tried to push down the horror of what he’d so casually shared with her in order to speak. “That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. I’m so sorry that happened to you. I…”
Kidnapped as a child. Too dangerous to be allowed to live a normal life. The strange uniforms and the pack mentality and the way he killed so easily.
