My body creates a civil war between basking in his soft touch or revolting against it.
“Let me go,” I transmit, trying my best to ignore the heat he’s forming on that small spot of my thigh. “Because I don’t know anything about what you are looking for.”
He chuckles, but the happiness it normally spouts doesn’t reach his features. “Figured that would be one of the things you’d like me to do.”
“You fixing me up, trying to be kind, it’s not going to change what I don’t know. And my father isn’t a murderer.”
Emric reaches down into his First Aid kit again. “Of course, he isn’t.”
He’s mocking me, and I’m checking out of this conversation. This Jedi-mind trick that he’s playing isn’t going to throw me off and magically have answers.
“You’re all set,” he vouches. “I wouldn’t move too much if I were you. We have a big day tomorrow.”