I grit my teeth.Don’t strangle him. Don’t grab his scrawny neck and squeeze until his eyes pop.
I repeat the mantra a few times before I trust myself to speak. “His trip ran long. He’ll be back within the week.”
Gods, will he though? Is seven days enough time for me to find a way out of Yen Girene with everyone’s lives intact? Is seven days enough to outmaneuver whatever the Praeceptor and people like Jayan have planned for Nadjaa’s power vacuum? And can I do it quick enough to outrun Shivhai?
An invisible noose tightens around my throat, and I cough. Jayan’s eyebrows flick up, startled.
The man settles back into himself. “Wonderful, I shall call a council meeting for then. Much has happened in our fearless leader’s tenure abroad.”
“Perfect,” I growl.
“Where did you say your guest was from? She is quite lovely.” The words are harmless enough, but the thought of Jayan’s slick gaze on Mirren feels abruptly wrong.
I set my eyes on him, the abyss in my stomach beginning to churn. His eyes widen, but I give him credit—he doesn’t stumble back. “If you look at her again, I will pluck your eyes from your head.”
My voice is so calm that it takes a beat for him to realize the threat, but I see the moment he does. He sputters and gulps down air. I turn around, not waiting for the rest of his pathetic reaction—we both know I’m fully capable of harming him. And now we both know that perhaps it was only ever Denver’s leash that kept me from doing so.
It takes a moment to realize that in leaving Jayan, I am stalking toward Mirren like some sort of animal; unleashed and barely civilized. I stop abruptly, but then her eyes rove in my direction and I am well and truly frozen.
Gods.
The emerald sparkles, accented by the color of her dress and framed by a thick curtain of dark lashes. Her lips twist in a hint of a smile. It’s the way I’ve always imagined her looking at me. With no disgust, no fear, nothing but glowing happiness. How is it that I have bared my soul to her, the terrible things I’ve done, and still, she looks at me like that?
“Shaw,” she says, and with my name on her lips, I forget that I should leave her be. “Have you decided to stop skulking and enjoy the fun?”
“I don’t skulk,” I retort obstinately. Max roars in laughter and claps me on the back.
“Seems Mirren knows you a little too well, my friend,” she says delightedly, her breath smelling of cherry wine. She looks to Mirren. “Shaw doesn’t have fun.”
I open my mouth to argue but close it upon seeing laughter twinkling in Mirren’s eyes. I find I’m willing to be laughed at if she’s the one laughing. How strange.
Cal swoops in behind Max, his face flushed from a heady combination of dancing and alcohol. “He might not have fun, but heisan excellent dancer. Some might even say better than I am.” He places a hand on my back and shepherds me toward Mirren as if I’m a small child. I follow his ministrations with a glower.
Mirren raises an eyebrow. “Do you really dance?” Her eyes run down my body skeptically. It makes me want to grab her and show her exactly what this body is capable of, but instead, I clear my throat.
“It’s pretty much the same as fighting. Just fewer weapons.”
Cal rolls his eyes as if my very existence plagues him, and right now, I’m sure it does. He would sooner cut off his own arm than compare something as beautiful as dancing to the art of death. Though he’s been trained as well as any warrior, he wasn’t born with swords in his hands and fire in his lungs. His movements, though skilled, are not innate and he sees no beauty in them, only practicality.
Mirren, however, tilts her head. Weighs my words. “Well then, show me the way, warrior,” she says in a low voice.
She threads her fingers through mine, and I feel a foreign tightening in my chest. Her palm is warm, her small hand almost completely enveloped by mine. It’s the first time she’s touched me when neither of us is under duress, the only time she’s reached for me first—unless I count the time she stabbed me, which I twistedly do. It hurt like hell, but it was when I saw the true Mirren. The dark, wild creature beneath what she was conditioned to be.
I see the same beautiful girl now, eyes sparkling with mischief and trepidation. And above all,want.Not for me. She’s smarter than that. But want forlifeand every beautiful and terrible thing it has to offer.
And I can at least give her that. I lead her to the middle of the street just as the song fades from a frenetic, fast paced beat to one that is smooth and supple. Thousands of candles line the makeshift dance floor, casting everything in a soft glow. I know there are things I should be remembering right now—urgent things, life or death—but my mind has miraculously eddied of everything but her.
She allows me to draw her close. A small sigh escapes her lips as her body settles against mine, a sound that curls low in my stomach. She is soft and slippery and the look of her in a dress that I chose sends a primal urge running through me.Mine.
I stiffen as the word clangs through me.No, not mine. Never mine.
She gazes up at me with big eyes. Her cheeks are tinged pink, from embarrassment or excitement, or perhaps a combination of both. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” she explains uncertainly.
Funny, that she can lead a bloodthirsty beast like the yamardu after us, but when faced with a dance floor, she balks. I circle my hand around her small waist and press her hips closer to mine. The melody swirls around us and we sway together in time with the tempo. “Just let the music in. Do what feels natural.”
“What feels natural is standing still with my arms crossed,” she tells me, a line of consternation appearing between her brows. I let out a surprised laugh.
“I don’t believe you,” I tell her, running my palm from her hips to her ribs, feeling the way her body loosens at my touch, slowly writhing and twisting to the music. The rhythm mingles in her blood, heating her skin beneath my fingers and lighting her eyes. She watches me shyly but doesn’t pull away. A breath hitches at her lips and I have the powerful urge to catch it; to taste something of her, even something dispelled. The moment at the cliff pond wasn’t enough.
