Page 3 of Take

“How old are you?” he asked.

“None of your business.” Scars were immortal and aged until thirty-two, so it was hard for me to guess how long he’d been around. I was only twenty, and for a Scar that was really young.

“Oh, baby, right now, you are my business.”

A splattering of sensations peppered through me and begged to come out and play. I couldn’t let them. I wouldn’t let him unhinge me with a few looks and a couple words. I was stronger than that. But there was something about him that put me on edge.

God, why was he just staring at me as if he could see right through my towel? Why wasn’t I calling Xamien? He was close enough to speak telepathically, but I hadn’t used that form of communication since I was ten.

Fine. If he wasn’t going to leave, then I was. I leaned over to reach for another towel to cover my shoulders, but I kept my eyes on him. I wasn’t stupid and suspected if I took my eyes off him, he’d take advantage. I didn’t know how yet, but I wasn’t taking any chances with this asshole. But my mistake was I should’ve been paying attention to what I was doing.

It happened fast. I leaned too far. The heel of my foot slipped in the puddle of water beneath my feet and I lost my balance. I scrambled to grab hold of something . . . that something was the towel rack. But even my one-hundred and fifteen pounds was too much for it and the metal rod snapped out of the holder and clanged to the floor.

A weird strangled cry emerged from my throat as I landed sitting on the toilet with the bundle of towels now on the floor at my feet—including the one I’d been using.

My cheeks burned as I grabbed one and pulled it up in front of me then jumped back to my feet. Our gazes clashed and I noticed the quick change in his expression from lowered brows over his annoyed charcoal eyes to amusement again.

He grinned and half-snorted. “Impressive.”

Momentarily speechless, I had no idea how to respond. The polite response would be a shy, embarrassed smile; my gut response was ‘get the fuck out!’ Instead, I kept my thoughts to myself. It was safer that way. I had to stay safe.

No confrontation. Simple. Yet there was nothing simple about this man. I could see it hidden in the depths of his eyes—dark, hard. And he’d changed expressions so quickly as if not wanting me to witness the dark parts of him.

He crossed his ankles, appearing casual and comfortable, and I ground my teeth together. “So, do you normally shower in the middle of the night?”

“So, are you normally rude?”

He laughed and a soft curl fell in front of his eyes. He casually pushed it back behind his ear. “You don’t know who I am, do you?”

No. And I didn’t care.

“Jasper Kyelin.”

Kyelin. Then it clicked. The rogue Scar. The mercenary or assassin—both. He’d stayed here briefly a few times, but I’d never met him. When I’d been attacked a couple days ago by the witch-vampire, he’d been there, but I was in so much pain I hadn’t looked at him.

“And your name, sunshine?”

Sunshine? God, I hate endearments. They were degrading. I wanted to tell him to take his sunshine and shove it up his ass where the sun didn’t shine, but I wouldn’t play his game and from his cocky amused attitude, this was a game and I was the play piece. “My name is Max, not ‘Sunshine,’ although I suspect you already know that,” I replied.

He shrugged.

Yeah, he had. God, his asshole meter was rising by the second. “You’re Xamien’s little pet.”

The meter shot off the scale and exploded. I met his eyes and held them, glaring. Bastard. I had no intention on having any further conversation with him and he was quickly proving my theory that people rarely listened, and if they did, they didn’t give a shit. It was all pretenses to get something from you for their own benefit. The question was . . . what did Jasper want from me?

He shoved away from the doorframe and casually strolled across the tiled floor toward me. Confident. Self-assured. Not a trace of unease.

“What are you doing?” My voice quivered and he grinned. Jesus, get your shit together, Max.

He crouched in front of me and my eyes followed his agile movement as he picked up my hairclip. He slowly stood again and took another step forward. He was so close to me his breath brushed across my face when he exhaled.

My chest tightened as his scent drifted into me. It was fresh soil mixed with a hint of dry cedar—sensual. I tried to ignore it, but when I breathed in, it settled in my lungs and caused a wave of heat to spread across my skin. I quickly lowered my gaze, intending to ignore him; instead, my eyes trailed down his long, muscular thighs.

I swallowed and curled my fingers into the edges of the towel pulling it tighter to my body. I kept my eyes glued to the floor, attempting to ignore the new sensations raging through me.

“Standing right here, best look at me, babe.” His finger came under my chin and I clamped my jaw as he tilted my head up so our eyes met. “And I’m not one for repeating myself.” He held my clip out in his opposite hand.

I didn’t move until his brows lowered. I snatched my clip from his palm and curled it in my hand.

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