She gave a breathless laugh. “We could start a club, then.”
That startled a laugh from him. The rough sound hit her square in the chest. This man, he didn’t laugh often. His brothers’ teasing made that clear. But when he did, he was unfairly handsome. Less beast, more man. It made her want to kiss him again, memorize the way his mouth curved when amusement slipped past the shadows.
Just as quick, it was gone.
There he was again. All heat and shadows. All muscle and mayhem. Her insides twisted. She was in trouble. Deep, unholy, heart-thudding trouble. “My father would have liked you.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“He would have,” she insisted, tightening her grip on his scarred hand. “He saw the best in people, even when they did not deserve it.Especially then. It was his greatest gift and his greatest undoing.”
“What do you mean?”
“He trusted the wrong woman,” she said quietly. “She... she wrapped her lies around him until he could no longer tell truth from poison. By the time he realized her poison, it was too late.”
“Then he and I would not have gotten along. I don’t much like poison, and I’m not fond of lies either.”
“Some poisons are disguised prettily.”
That earned her an arched brow. “Is that a warning?”
She laughed. “I’m much too simple for that.”
“Says the rose.”
“Why, thank you. I won’t deny my thorns.” Her mouth tilted. “And yet, you are the man of no poison, sitting at the center of Brighton’s underworld. A little contradiction never hurt anyone, I suppose?”
His eyes flicked down to their still-twined fingers. “Contradictions keep men alive.”
“So you don’t like lies. Does that mean you never tell any?”
“Not to my family.”
“Right, you just ignore them, I imagine.” And she could also imagine he did it rather spectacularly.
“I’m not a whole man, Calliope.”
“You look rather whole to me.”
“You know what I mean.”
She offered him a smile. She assumed he referred to his past. “A person’s pain or past doesn’t make them less of a whole person, Maxen. You’re just a bit scratched. Possibly cursed. Slightly beastly. But not less.”
He made a sound—half sigh, half groan—and dropped his forehead to hers. “You’re not helping.”
“Are you going to growl at me to leave again?”
His nose brushed hers.
Could they stay in this moment forever?
*
The moment Calliopeslipped out the door, Maxen snatched up his gloves and tugged them back on. A habit. A reflex. Something to do with his hands now that they weren’t lost in her hair. And he didn’t want the fading impression to vanish, so he’d trap them with his gloves.
You’re a fool.
Fool or not, he could still feel her. The warmth of her skin. The beat of her pulse beneath his fingers. The unhesitating press of her lips against his, her touch leaving a mark on his damned soul. He couldn’t shake the feeling that if he didn’tcontainthis desire inside him, it might spread. Infect every thought. Every instinct. Every bloody plan.
