Page 66 of Stroke of Shadows

“Why roses?” she asked, wanting to break the tension between them. His presence was too much. Too intense.

She’d never willingly had anyone else inside her space, and yet there he was. A dark shadow against her white marble tiles.

“Are you appreciating my abs, darling?”

Harper’s touch hesitated, and instantly there was a gentle vibration beneath her hand, his stomach shaking with laughter.

“There’s a language with flowers,” he finally answered, and she dared look up through her hair to find him watching her intently. “Different cultures have assigned symbolism, believing they have some sort of meaning depending on the situation.”

“So, do they?”

Sythe cocked his head, his tousled hair sweeping over his left eye. “A rose is simply a rose. They’re beautiful. Strong. Resilient.”

“And then they wilt and die, just like everything else.” Harper pressed gently to the edge of his wound, the skin not so angry. “You need stitches.”

“It’ll be fine.”

Harper grabbed the fresh gauze, taping it across neatly. “Sythe, you’ve been shot. You need better medical attention than I—”

A strong hand on her jaw, forcing her to look at him.

“I promise I’m fine, Starlight. There’s no need to worry.”

Starlight?

Those earlier flutters had grown to full-blown butterflies. “What happened?” she whispered, finding herself needing to know how he was hurt. And why he’d come to her.

“Wyatt’s operation went to shit, and I was shot. Just part of the job.” He paused, his eyes seeming to search hers. “The last shipment was compromised.”

“Only the last?” Harper looked up at his carefully composed face. “Is Wyatt okay?”

Sythe smiled, but it lacked the sincerity it had earlier. “He hit his head, but he’ll be fine. Angel’s taking care of everything.” His thumb stroked along her skin, and she should pull back. Put a cushion of air between them. Instead, she absorbed the affection as if she were starved of oxygen.

“Your turn.” His tone had hardened, but his thumb remained soft, moving down to stroke the side of her throat and collarbone. “Where have you been?”

Harper swallowed, his hand riding the movement. “I went for a walk.”

“A walk, huh?” Sythe leaned down, his eyes dipping to her lips which parted at the attention.

His breath was hot against her face, and Harper wasn’t sure what she wanted. He made her feel things she’d never felt before, but she should be disgusted by him, not attracted.

“You don’t lie as good as you think you do, darling.”

Chapter 23

Sythe

Dilated pupils. Skin flushed. Quickened breath. Harper reacted to him so deliciously, and he ached to push it further. She may not like him entirely, but her body sure as fuck did.

“Your turn,” he said, needing to know where she was for almost two hours. “Where have you been?”

He never should have entered her room, and he definitely shouldn’t have stayed when he realised she wasn’t even there. But he couldn’t leave, the need to hunt her down and make sure she was safe, a violent urge that almost had him tearing the estate apart. It had made sense for him to wait, to make sure she was okay and then leave.

He should leave.

And yet his hand almost collared her throat, her pulse racing to his touch.

Fuck.

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