“I only have one spare set of clothes with me,” she clarified, her scalp prickling at his closeness. “Besides, it’s good to maintain a form of disguise, isn’t it?”
“You are a woman dressed in men’s clothing. There is no disguise happening here. You look like a damn temptation that will lure every blackguard out of their hole.”
“No need to grumble about it,” Calliope muttered. Inside, her heart thrashed against her breast. A temptation? How? Why? “What if I put on a cap?”
“Calliope,” he leaned close, “if you wanted to resemble a boy, then you should have procured trousers that don’t wrap around your legs like that.”
Her lips parted. Closed. Parted again. “I’m seated.”
Reaper whistled, plopping in a chair across from them. “Frère.”
Maxen pulled back, a vein ticking in his jaw. She swore the tips ofhis ears glowed red. “Forget I said anything.”
Come to think of it, last night he’d covered her with his coat. Was that the reason?
“Yes,” Reaper chirped. “Stare at each other. We don’t exist.”
Calliope averted her gaze. Stars, now she didn’t know where to look. Vexing man.
Dagger entered through the door of the tavern, his long, heavily weaponed coat swaying, followed by Saint. The latter disappeared though the back door while the former claimed a chair. She hadn’t been formally introduced to any of these men, but they didn’t treat her as a stranger. She rather appreciated that.
“What did I miss?” Dagger asked.
“Trust me,frère, you do not want to know.”
Knight, still behind the bar, grunted. “Allegedly, he laughed, too.”
Dagger arched a brow.
“Why is that such a shock?” Calliope asked. The man wasn’t a statute that didn’t possess the capacity to laugh.
Reaper leaned over the table, eyes gleaming. “This one never laughs,petite souris.”
Calliope didn’t miss the look of death Maxen shot his brother. She grinned. “What a charming brood all of you are.”
Maxen’s gaze moved to her, and her lips lifted at the corners at the consternation gathering between his brows. How had he ever appeared terrifying to her before? A remarkable thing, time.
Maxen’s stare lingered on her too long, too heavy, until her grin faltered. She shoved another spoonful of stew into her mouth. “Stop staring at me as if you’re waiting for me to do something foolish.”
His voice dropped, dangerous-soft. “I am.”
She shot the man a hot look.
“For hell’s sake, one of you kiss the other before we all suffocate,” Reaper muttered.
Maxen’s snarl shut him up fast, but Calliope nearly choked on herstew, caught mid-swallow at the sudden gripe. Could these men stop saying such things?
Calliope almost groaned. Why did he have to reinforcethatimage in her head! Would she even get any sleep tonight?
*
Maxen couldn’t helphimself. His eyes didn’t obey the curses spewing at them in his head. They and a complete will of their own. And they wanted to stare. Her lips were curved in a cheeky little half-smile as she pursed. Her hair still tumbled over her shoulders like this morning—a magnificent, maddening, silken temptation. He wished she’d pin it up so the sight was his alone.
She was a vision. Continuing to wear breeches like she hadn’t just set half his logic ablaze. Speaking to his brothers like they weren’t dangerous men.
Unbothered.
Staggeringly breathtaking.
