Page 34 of Stroke of Shadows

“Harper.” He said her name as a whisper.

The nerves morphed into something else, something she pointedly ignored. “You have to leave.”

Sythe reached down to touch her hair, fingers playing with the white that usually framed her face. “I don’t think I want to.” Those same fingers brushed down, touching along her jaw. “What are you going to do about it?”

What was she going to do about it? His touch was featherlight, and yet she felt it everywhere. Her body warmed at the memory of what they’d done. Remembered the feel of his hand, as well as those dirty words he’d whispered against her skin.

Except his expression was nothing compared to the fire growing inside her.

“I wonder if you taste as good as I remember,” he said, so low it was more of a grumble through his chest. A chest that was very close to hers.

“You can’t talk to me like that.” It came out more of a gasp, his fingers along her jaw stroking, his eyes alight with an emotion she couldn’t quite read.

“Can't I?”

He was laughing at her.

She was probably another toy to him, just like she was to her uncle and every other man.

Harper almost slapped his hand away, but instead, she took a dignified step back.

“To answer your first question, darling, I was out partying with Wyatt and decided to crash here.” Sythe smiled, emphasising his dimple. “But don’t worry, I won’t tell him about our little secret.”

“What little secret?” Wyatt walked into the kitchen wearing nothing but a pair of jeans. He yawned, expression exhausted. “What fucking secret?”

“That Miss Beauchamp has a crush on me,” Sythe said, not bothering to even look towards Wyatt.

“Don’t be absurd,” she replied before turning to her cousin. “What’s he doing here? Does Angel—”

“Of course my father knows,” Wyatt said, interrupting her with an eye roll. “You know how restrictive he is.”

Harper clenched her fists, barely controlling the anger. “Then why haven’t I been told there’s someone else staying here? This is my house—”

“If he wanted you to know, you would.” Wyatt opened the refrigerator, bending down to peer inside. “But why would he tell someone who’s just the pretty face?”

“You’re such an…” She caught the curse, pushing the frustration down until she was alone.

“Careful, Harp, you don’t want my father to realise you actually have a backbone.” Wyatt picked out a bottle of water, handing one to Sythe before returning for his own. “He’ll be forced to sell you to the highest bidder who’ll want you flat on your back with your legs spread.”

The fridge slammed shut, bottles inside rattling.

Harper wasn’t sure what made her reach for the knife, her anger as sharp as the blade she gripped tightly.

Wyatt laughed at the sight, but Sythe stepped in front. His eyes were no longer bright, but dark and hard, with an edge that scared her.

“Careful,” he warned, all remnants of the man who’d just flirted gone. Instead, stood someone dangerous. Someone threatening.

“Don’t worry, Sy.” Wyatt slapped Sythe on the shoulder. “Harper’s too well trained to do anything stupid. Aren’t ya, Harp?”

Harper tightened her grip on the handle for the barest second, but her fingers weakened at the pressure. “I see you have a new dog.” She placed the knife back on the side, her stomach clenching with unease as numbness spread into her hand.

Wyatt’s laugh was dark. “It’s called having friends. You should try it sometime.”

SYTHE

Sythe hated the flash of fear on her face.

Harper had never wielded a knife before, her hand clumsily holding the handle in a way that would damage her wrist if she had to use any force. But she held it with determination, her arm not wavering as she faced her cousin.

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