He blew out the candle before lowering himself onto this rough pallet, stretching out on the floor, and Prince promptly trotted over and curled against his side.
Traitor.
“Do you honestly believe I’m a spy?” she asked to distract herself.
The answer came instantly. “No.”
She blinked into the dark. “No? I should be relieved, so why do I feel oddly offended?”
A low chuckle. “You don’t hide well.”
Impossible! She was the best at hiding! “I do too,” she whispered. “You just... see too much.” From what she could gather, at least.
A beat of silence followed, then the low creak of floorboards beneath his weight. “You noticed that.”
“How could I not?”
Two heartbeats passed. “It’s how I stay alive. Keep my brothers alive.”
Her scalp prickled. What kind of life required noticingeverythingjust to survive? But was she really one to ask? Hadn’t she been the same in that household? Letting her guard down meant she could be separated from Prince, locked in some small space, or even trapped and beaten.
“Is that how you noticed someone broke into the shop?” She’d wondered about that.
“Mmm.”
What? No details? Such a Maxen Fury thing to do. She would accept the lack of information, but only for tonight. Tomorrow, she wanted answers. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring trouble to your doorstep.”
“You didn’t.” Another slight pause. “Trouble was already there.”
Her brows furrowed. “What does that mean?”
“It means...” He exhaled, a sound that somehow managed to brush against her skin even though it was nowhere close. “Trouble doesn’t always knock. Sometimes it sneaks in through the back and waits for you to step through the door.”
She didn’t know if he meant him or herself.
Knowing the man, likely both.
She rolled to her side, her front facing the direction of his voice. Though the room was cloaked in darkness, she could make out the shape of him lying on the floor. One arm behind his head. The other stretched toward the edge of her bed—but not touching.
Just . . . close.
He shifted, and her skin prickled.
This wasn’t a man who gave away pieces of himself freely. But she couldn’t help the absurd sense that maybe—just maybe—he’d handed her a corner of something about him tonight. A little scrap of the true man. The man hiding beneath all that black. Beneath those black leather gloves.
She tugged the covers up just a little higher.
“Maxen?” she murmured, her voice barely above a breath.
“Hm.”
“Thank you for tonight.”
He didn’t answer for a moment, then simply said, “Always.”
She almost laughed. Everything about this situation was ridiculous. Uncomfortable. Dangerous, even. And yet, here she lay. Not exactly a bed of her own making, but one she’d willingly entered.
Trouble had clearly found her. And at this moment, it was lyingjust an arm’s breadth away.
