Page 119 of The Sinner's Bargain

Ivelle squeaked a sound of excitement. “Thank you! I can’t wait to tell them when they come in tomorrow for their morning gossip.”

I felt myself smile at the sheer bliss on the other girl’s face. “I’m sorry you had to put up with them for so long.”

Ivelle waved a hand. “That’s my job. Most of the other customers are wonderful.”

Both hands washed clean of all traces of blood, Thoran looked up. “I need a word with Blue.”

Ivelle grimaced and took several steps back. “Sorry. I’ll head out.” She dug into the pocket of her pale jeans and unearthed a set of keys. She unhooked one of the bigger keys and held it out to me, realized I couldn’t take them and held them out to Cyrus instead.

“Won’t you need that for tomorrow?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I have three sets. I keep one here in the office. One at home and one on me just in case.”

“Are you the manager?”

Ivelle raised a hand and rocked it slowly side to side. “Not officially. Old Man Walker lives upstairs and he runs...” she caught the glance Thoran shot her and quickly shut her lips. “A story for another time.”

With a wave, she hurried out of the shop.

“That wasn’t necessary,” I said. “I really like her.”

“Then give her a raise and promote her officially to manager. Right now, my only concern is you. Cyrus.”

The other man quickly took a step forward. “Sir?”

“I gave you one job. To look after Blue and make sure she’s safe.”

“No,” I protested. “Please, it was my fault.”

Both ignored me.

“I accept my punishment,” Cyrus vowed.

“No, Thoran, please,” I pleaded. “Please don’t. I will take—”

“Oh, we will be discussing your part in this, but he let you get hurt and I will not—”

“He didn’t!”

Thoran’s head came up, eyes hard chips of amber. “I’m cleaning blood off your hands, Blue. Your blood.”

“I would do it again!” I shot back, despite the knot in my chest at the thought of arguing back, but I meant it.

I meant it with an all-encompassing fire that threatened to swallow me whole because the thought of anything happening to Thoran. The very idea of anyone celebrating his death enraged me to the point of madness.

Rage.

I hadn’t recognized the feeling when it was building in my stomach at the time, but that must have been what that was.

Rage.

Fury.

That wild insanity that blinded a person to everything, except destroying the thing responsible.

I had never felt rage or anger.

I had never had anything to protect with such a violent passion. But the heat, the sheer weight of my feelings for Thoran left no room for clarity. I cared about him so much it was a physical pain in my chest.

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