Page 48 of To Bleed A Kingdom

Her eyes widen and she places a hand on my thigh, curling her fingers into my trousers. “Is that why everyone acts so strange when we tell them what we trade?”

That, and your beauty can befuddle even the strongest of males.

“That’s exactly why.”

“That explains that, at least.” Frowning, she peers upward, mumbling to herself. “Jathro should have done more research before sending me here.”

“Jathro,” I say, his name tasting like ash on my tongue. “A lover?” I hiss through my teeth, flames suddenly flaring from my palms as I clench the table, wood smoldering on a crack between my grip.

Eyes widening at the sight, she steps further between my thighs, snatching my hand up before I can stop her. Shocked, I jolt back, smothering the flames instantly as I try to pull from her grasp, but she holds tight.

“My brother,” she says gently, clasping her hand with mine. “The leathersmith.”

Hissing a curse, I pry her hands from mine and unfurl her fingers, sure I've burned her all the way to the bone. But I’m shocked to find not a single mark marring her skin. Even her vambraces are untouched, the texture unblemished as I stroke my finger along her palm. Slowly tracing along the lines of her skin, my concern morphs to fascination as I absorb the feel of her small, smooth hands splayed within mine. She laces our fingers together, braiding and twining one finger with the other. Her tender touch fills me with a sudden warmth, fanning the flames within.

“Does this mean you'll be leaving soon?” I ask, my voice guttural, grating against my throat.

She watches our clasped hands dance with one another, just as enthralled as I am. “Not yet. I came all this way. May as well try.”

“Is there anyone waiting for you back home?”

She lifts her glazed gaze to mine and swallows thickly. “My brother.”

Locking my jaw, I hiss through clenched teeth, “I'm not talking about a brother.”

She says nothing as she watches me, beguiling amethyst eyes boring into my blue ones as she steps closer, swaying into me as she places both hands on my upper thighs and whispers, “No.”

That single, breathy word rams into me like a sledgehammer, battering my control. I inhale a deep breath through my nostrils in a last-ditch effort to control myself and I'm instantly bombarded with the scent of vanilla, cinnamon, and cherry. My cock has been twitching throughout our entire encounter, but when I smell the scent that's all Lena, it hardens to steel.

Heart stampeding within my chest, I watch the purple of her eyes begin to glow with desire as she arches against me and licks her lips. At the thought of gliding my cock between those red, juicy lips, my blood begins to boil and my dick rages against its leather prison as my whole body tenses and prepares to pounce.

Palm slipping off the table, I reach for her hips where that small patch of bare skin is displayed between her vest and trousers, but a troubling thought suddenly slices through my haze of desire, freezing my hand midair. Slowly curling my hand into a fist, it visibly trembles as I draw back from her.

Ignoring the physical pain of retreat, I ask, “Your brother owns the leather shop?”

Her breathing is erratic and her eyes are glazed over in lust, but a line appears between her brows. “Uh, huh,” she mumbles huskily.

A wave of ice spreads through my veins, successfully dousing any remaining lust. “The other night you said your uncle owned the leather shop,” I state coldly. “Not your brother.”

At my statement, her eyes instantly clear and an emotionless mask slips into place. “Did I?”she asks blandly.

Fucking liar.

Neither of us speaks as I glare into her apathetic eyes. Although her breaths calm and her body relaxes, outwardly she shows no signs of the fact that we were only moments away from fucking on this very same table. She’s cool, calm, and collected, as if nothing even happened. Like it was all an act.

Knuckles whitening into fisted hands, my nostrils flare as my blood begins to boil in rage.

This is why I don't trust people. Liars and users, all of them.

The bell over the entrance peals and two pairs of footsteps stride in our direction.

“Darius?” Griffin calls out, but I refuse to remove my gaze from Lena’s. Neither does she as I rise to my feet, leather skimming against leather until I tower over her, leaving not even a finger's breadth between.

“Darius,” Griffin repeats, more forcefully than before.

I narrow my eyes on her one last time, then swing my gaze toward the entryway where a confused Griffin and Kace are standing.

“Ajax?” I ask.

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