Her offer hit me like a physical blow. When was the last time someone had offered to help me—not because they owed me, or feared me, or wanted something in return, but simply because they cared? “Why would you do that?” The question came out smaller than I had intended.
She studied my face with those storm-gray eyes, as if she could see past every defense I’d ever built. “Because when I called, you came. Because …” She paused, and I saw her own walls wavering. “Because you see me as more than just a shield.”
With my free hand, I cupped her chin, marveling at the softness of her skin beneath the blood and grime. When had I stoppedthinking of her as a shield and started seeing her as she was? With my thumb, I grazed her full lower lip.
Her breath hitched at the contact, and I saw my own hunger reflected in her eyes. The air between us crackled with more than just energy that lingered after a hard-fought battle.
I’d defeated a thousand foes. Those victories couldn’t compare to the triumph I felt at seeing the need in her eyes. “May I kiss you?” The words slipped past my lips. “Please, Haven.” I leaned forward until we shared the same breath.
“I’m filthy.” She hadn’t said no.
“You’re perfect.” I kissed her, reveling in the plush softness of her mouth as my tongue tested the seam of her lips.
She let me in, and our tongues danced, tangled, savored. She was cinnamon and rainwater. Spicy and refreshing. Addictive.
Her soft moan went straight to my cock, but I resisted pulling her closer. This might well be my last first kiss, and I didn’t want to rush through it. The rasp of our tongues, her soft moans—they were like a drug. I wanted more. I wanted every inch of her silky skin, every groan, every grasp, every beat of her heart—but I went slowly, savoring.
“Wha—”
I jumped away from her as if she were a shameful secret, and for an instant I saw hurt in her stormy eyes. My chest tightened at that wounded look. I wanted to reach for her again, to explain that my reaction had nothing to do with shame and everything to do with a lifetime of guarding my emotions from scrutiny.
But Grayson’s eyes were fluttering as he struggled to regain consciousness, and the moment was lost.
Ignoring me, she focused on the man who’d interrupted us. “Grayson, you’re alive.” She didn’t sound pleased. If I didn’tknow better, I’d never guess that she’d fought to protect him or that her healing powers had kept him alive.
“What happened?” Grayson tried to sit, found it too taxing, and collapsed with his head on her thighs.
“You’re injured.” Her crimson-hued fingers hovered above his head as if she wanted to stroke his hair. Instead, she dropped her hand to her lap.
He turned his head, taking in the bodies and the sea of blood. “You finished them.”
“Pierce helped.”
“When I came downstairs, she was standing over your body, fighting two at the same time.”
“You saved me?” Grayson sounded befuddled, almost disbelieving.
Her lips thinned as if she regretted defending him. “What you mean is ‘thank you.’”
“I’m not doubting your skill. I’m just … you could have let them kill me.”
“You’re welcome.”
“What in blazes happened here?” The innkeeper stood in the doorway. His eyes were black and swollen, and he clutched his ribs as he surveyed his destroyed taproom.
“You!” Grayson’s face was deathly pale, and sweat dotted his brow, but he managed to push himself into a seated position.
The innkeeper was too lost in horror to hear the warning in Grayson’s tone. I understood the innkeeper’s distress—the room was bathed in blood and gore. It was Grayson’s irate tone that had me confused. Why was he angry? Had the innkeeper betrayed us to the assassins?
“You sold her.”
The innkeeper looked at Grayson and then shrugged. “Don’t pretend you care. Guards use shields,same as me. At least when my customers are done, the girls are still alive. You burn through their powers, and then leave them to die.”
Darkness danced at the edge of my vision, and my hands clenched. He’d sold her? “Haven?”
She read the desperate question in my eyes. “No one touched me.”
I leaped to my feet and strode toward the innkeeper, taking smug satisfaction in the fear blooming in his eyes. “You dare disrespect what is mine?” She wasn’t mine—I had no claim on her—but the thought of this filth selling her body made something primal roar to life inside me.
