She just stared at him for a moment, her brown eyes disbelieving. “Instead of catching me in the parking lot, or calling, you sneak onto my land and surprise me. Are you kidding? Are you friggin’ kidding me?”
“No, I’m not. Why else would I be here?”
She let out something like a growl. “After I was summarily dismissed, why would the Guard suddenly take me seriously and send someone out? And for God’s sake, why you?”
He had those kinds of why questions, too, none he could share with her. “I’m not here on behalf of the Guard.”
She furrowed her eyebrows. Mud streaked her face, her toned body, and gods help him, she was tantalizing.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.
“I came on my own because what you said piqued my interest. There’s no need for the senseless deaths that would come from clan wars.” He’d seen that fear in her eyes when she’d appealed to Ferro. “I want to hear everything you know.”
She seemed to weigh his words. He knew how to lie skillfully when he had to. It was part of training, though he rarely used it in his personal life. The current situation blurred the line. Violet was blurring all kinds of lines, obliterating others.
She took advantage of his introspection, because he was suddenly spinning off her, compliments of an impressive twist and kick of her legs. He came to his feet, ready for another attack.
She was stalking over to where her clothes had shredded when she’d Catalyzed. She held the remains of the tight shirt she’d been wearing to her chest. Suspicion drenched her expression. “You’re serious?” Kade saw a mixture of hope and skepticism in her eyes. And that eradicated any last shred of doubt that she was behind this.
“Very.” He pulled off his shirt and tossed it to her.
She snatched it out of the air and wriggled into it, giving him one last heavenly view of her full breasts and flat stomach as she pulled it on. She pushed her muddy hair from her face. “Why do you care? We’re all marsh trash to the likes of you.”
“The likes of me? Because I’m a Vega?”
“Everything about you.” She swept her gaze over him. “You move like royalty, you act like you rule the world, and you look untouchable.”
Which he found amusing since he was as muddy as she was. She waited for his answer. He rubbed the mud, now itching, from his neck, buying time. Royalty, huh? He sure as hell didn’t feel like any of that at the moment. At least she hadn’t called him pretty. “My gut says there’s something going on, just like you suspect. If the Guard won’t listen, then I will.”
“Why sneak up on me? You know what animals we all are.” She’d heard someone say it, obviously, as she mimicked it with a sneer. “We do act on instinct, at least our Dragons do. I didn’t even know you were there; my Dragon did. I could have killed you.”
He gave her a smile he was sure was smug. “No, you couldn’t have.”
She rolled her eyes. “This is a bet, isn’t it? Can Kade Kavanaugh nail the marsh trash? You might as well go home. Ain’t gonna happen. You’re totally not my type.”
Except those hardened nubs poking against his shirt told a different story. “Neither are you, if that makes you feel any better. I’m a Deuce-gal kind of guy.” Although this Dragon appealed to him more than any other Crescent—Deuce or Dragon—he’d encountered before. And that was just…crazy. “I’d never try to nail a woman for a bet.” He let his mouth curve into a smile. “Only for the mutual pleasure of both parties.”
A sound escaped her throat, but she cleared it. “Are you sure you’re not here to sniff out drugs? Find something else to bust my brothers on?”
He didn’t blame her for her distrust. She had good reason not to trust the Guard, as it turned out. “Arlo was the worst offender. He had problems, whether you want to admit it or not.”
She gave a quick nod. “He did.”
“Now he’s dead. Let’s find out why.” When her skepticism didn’t waver, he added, “Violet, you went to the Guard for help, as hard as that must have been for you. I’m here. Let me help.”
The words broke down her resistance. The battle between distrusting him and needing him played over her expression. “You can’t come into my house like that. Heck, neither can I.” She walked over to a faucet and turned the squeaky knob, using the hose to rinse her hair and face first. He watched, entranced, as water sluiced over her and plastered his shirt to her curves. After rinsing her legs, she headed toward him and held the stream over his head. He scrubbed his fingers through his hair, feeling the grit wash away. Then she stepped back and pressed her thumb over the end to pressurize the stream. She aimed it across his shoulders and arms first.
He swore she took vengeful pleasure in hosing him down. Or maybe it was just pleasure. Her eyes followed the mud as it slid down his bare chest. Hell, he could feel that gaze slide down his body, embers flickering in her eyes. The water was cool, the sun was hot, and he took the blast of water without giving away the war that raged through him.
Ferro’s voice told him to take her out.
Cyn’s told him to trust his gut.
Berlin’s female singer sang about flames reaching out for the sun.
Then she reached for his upper chest. “You’ve got a scratch. I must have done that.” She gently brushed her fingers across it beneath the water’s flow. A wake of sensation followed her caress.
“Violet.” He cursed himself for the hitch in his voice.
