Page 78 of House of Crimson Cloak and Silver Teeth

I strip off my jacket and suit, letting them fall to the riverbank.

Cold air hits bare skin but it doesn’t matter. I need the shock of it, need something to override the heat coiling in my gut. I scrub at my chest, my arms, my neck with water. My hope is the wanting will wash away like it’s dirt with enough friction.

It doesn’t work. Never does.

The cold water changes nothing. I still want him. My mind is still imagining his hands on my skin.

Well, fuck it. I think I just destroyed any chance of having him.

Behind me, a branch cracks.

Chapter Eleven

I’m on my feet instantly, hand going to my knife. I turn slowly, scanning the darkness between the trees. The moon is rising now, casting everything in silver and shadow. It’s hard to distinguish shape from darkness, predator from prey.

Something shifts near the tree line, half hidden in silver shadow. A silhouette separates itself from the darkness of the stone outcropping.

Oh, it’s just Garrett.

He’s leaning against the rock formation about twenty feet away, bottle of dark glass in one hand. The bottle tilts to his lips and he drinks deep. Even from here I can see the slight unsteadiness in his movements.

“Didn’t mean to startle you,” he says. His voice isn’t slurred yet, but it’s looser than it should be.

He sees the knife in my hand and raises the bottle a little in mock salute, as if to say don’t waste the edge on me.

I slide the blade back into its sheath and turn my back on him, refusing to acknowledge whatever game he’s playing.

“Don’t mind me,” he says behind me. “Just came to enjoy the view.”

I ignore him and push the water skin under the current again, filling it to the brim. The cold bites at my fingers, sharp enough to ground me.

Garrett takes a long pull from the bottle.

“I’ve been wondering something.” I hear him swallow before he speaks again. “What you’re like.”

I keep my hands in the water and my eyes on the current.

“In bed.”

My hands go still in the river. Heat flashes up my neck before I can stop it.

He can’t be serious.

“Someone like you…” He takes another pull from the bottle. “I’ve been trying to work it out all day. I cannot decide if you’re the type to take someone apart or let yourself be unraveled.”

The fuck is he asking me now?

The air shifts, suddenly charged. My jaw sets but I don’t look at him. I don’t give the bastard the satisfaction of a response.

“Whether you’re the sort to command or surrender, I mean.” The bottle tips again and I hear the liquid slosh. “I keep changing my mind about it.”

I refuse to engage with this insanity. I screw the cap onto my waterskin slowly. The cork tightens into place and I keep pretending I don’t hear a thing he said.

“You’re not going to tell me?” he asks.

I stand without answering. My feet find the bank and I keep my eyes fixed on the path ahead. I just need to walk away from this conversation. He can talk to the night air for all I care.

“No,” he says, and I can hear the slow grin spreading through his voice now. “I don’t think you have to. I think I’ve got you worked out.”