His mouth tilts. “Mostly bullshit.”
He shrugs lightly. “And a lot of combat training. Weapons, tactical operations, shooting.”
“That part,” he adds, “I didn’t mind. I actually enjoyed it.”
“But you’re very good at art,” I say.
“Yeah. That’s a gift I never figured out where I inherited from,” he replies. “I was just grateful I had a pen and paper growing up. Whenever things got hard, it helped.” He pauses briefly before continuing. “I stopped for a while, though. Then I came here. Taking your art classes, it’s been nice to come back to it.”
I smile.
“So how come you weren’t forced into some bullshit like finance, on top of combat and shooting drills?” he asks.
“Oh, but I am,” I say lightly, answering his question. “My father made me start early. I finished a degree in finance in my second year.”
I continue more evenly. “Combat and training have been part of my life for as long as I can remember. Since I was thirteen, I think. I still practise and keep myself in shape.”
I pause, choosing my words. “I don’t think I need more shooting classes anymore. There’s always room to improve, of course, but I have years of experience behind me.”
I laugh softly. “This year was actually meant to be my rest period. Before everything else began.”
He laughs at my choice of words.
“Who did your tattoos?” I finally ask, my hand slows as I stop at one in particular. A built man, dark wings stretching from his back. Not too big, not small either. The detail in the wings is incredible. I trace the edge with my finger.
“You like them?” he says, a smirk pulls at his mouth.
“Yes.”
“I designed them,” he replies.
“Wow.”
He laughs. “That might be the best compliment I’ve ever had from you, gorgeous.”
I swat his chest. “Stop. They really are amazing.”
“Don’t worry,” he says easily. “I’ll design something for you too.”
Despite myself, I whisper, “I think I’d like that.”
Chapter 46
Octavia
I wake to the buzz of a phone.
I groan and reach for it blindly, desperate to silence the noise. It’s far too early. I could sleep for an entire day and still wake up exhausted.
A groan sounds behind me.
Markev has me wrapped tight, his body curved around mine, one arm heavy over my waist. I’m pressed back against him, tangled in the sheets.
The sound stops.
Then it starts again.
“Wait,” I mumble as he pulls me closer. “Let me see what it is.”
