“Besides, witches are rarely so compliant.”
That earned another startled laugh from me before I could stop it. A sound that consisted of my usual comical laugh that started with a serious of teehee sounds before finishing with a heehoo. I slapped a hand over my mouth, then promptly froze in place, heat flooding my cheeks. But instead of mocking me, he tilted his head, studying me with a faint curve to his mouth,as though my ridiculous laugh had just become his new favorite sound.
“Is that what you sound like when you’re trying to behave?” he murmured, his gaze still fixed on mine.
“Because that was entirely endearing.”
If I had thought a single look from him could make me blush, then the smoldering one he was giving me now could have set my cheeks ablaze.
“A sound you will never hear again if I can help it,” I countered, trying to salvage what little dignity I had left, but it was what he said next that truly sent my pulse spiking.
“That sounds like a challenge, and one I readily accept, which brings me to my next question…” He paused long enough for me to take the bait.
“Which is?”
“Are you ticklish?” I laughed and only just managed to end it before it turned into another symphony of teehees and heehoos.
But my laughter lingered longer than I expected, bright and unguarded in a way that felt almost reckless considering who was sitting across from me. For a second, I stopped trying so hard to stay composed and just reacted. When I looked at him again, he had gone still, studying me like my laughter had given him something else to think about.
“You should be careful,” he said at last, his voice quiet, almost thoughtful rather than admonishing.
“Of witches?” I teased lightly, leaning back in my chair and trying to pretend he didn’t affect me the way he did.
“No,” he replied, and this time his gaze did not waver from mine.
“Of assuming you are the only one who finds the other…desirable.”
The words were delivered with such measured smoothness that it took my brain a second to process them. When it did, heatclimbed steadily up my neck, blooming beneath my skin. But I was left asking myself what now felt like the most important question of all.
Did he desire me despite it being forbidden?
Or did he…
Desire me because it was?
22
KILLER INSTINCTS
Ihad to confess, it took me a moment to recover from his comment, and I questioned his motives for flirting.
“I’m not entirely sure what to say to that,” I admitted, lifting my cup as though it might offer me some comfort.
“I find it difficult to believe you are unfamiliar with being desired,” he commented in a wry tone. His gaze firmly fixed on me over the rim of his cup before something quietly triumphant flickered in his eyes when heat crept across my cheeks.
“Well, it’s not as though I’ve never had anyone interested… I’ve dated, of course, but just not enough to qualify as a harem,” I said with a chuckle. However, at the mention of other men, the shift in him was immediate.
It wasn’t loud or dramatic, nothing that would draw attention from anyone else in the café, but I felt it all the same. His shoulders didn’t move, his expression remained smooth, yet his fingers tightened ever so slightly around his cup.
“I imagine that if such a harem existed, I would find myself embarking on a rather enthusiastic killing spree,” he said with unsettling, deadly calm, and the coffee I had just swallowed chose that precise moment to rebel.
I coughed and spluttered before I reached hastily for a napkin. Dabbing at my lips, I surveyed the pastel walls and hanging plants, wondering if the polite hum of coffee machines was quite enough to mask a man’s casual threat of massacre.
“Wow,” I muttered under my breath, lowering the napkin and fixing him with an incredulous look.
“You really don’t ease into things, do you? Casual threats of mass murder on what is, technically, a coffee date.” His brow lifted slowly as a grin played at the edges of his perfect lips.
“Date?”he repeated, latching onto that single word and skipping neatly past the accusation of murder. I straightened immediately, nearly knocking my cup over in the process.
