Page 185 of Elven Shadow

“My point, Hannigan,” Rebeca hissed, “is that you don’t get to control me. You don’t get to choose what I do or where I go—”

“And you don’t get to do whatever you want,” he snapped.

“What I want is none of your business!”

“When it endangers the entire task force you said you were trying to save? You’re damn right it’s my business. The truth always comes out eventually, elf. I suggest you get on the right side of it before that happens.”

She huffed out a laugh and stepped even closer. If she had to out-alpha this lone wolf, fine. It wouldn’t be the hardest thing she’d ever done.

Even if it was the last thing she did now, shewoulddraw the line, and she’d make certain Maxwell saw it before he decided to step over it more time.

“Is that a threat, soldier?” she asked.

Dammit, she hated the way that sounded—the pompousness, the control, the superiority. Everything she’d left behind with the Bloodshadow Court when she’d left that life forever in her past.

But if she’d kept anything with her from her old life on Xahar’áhsh, it was the knowledge of exactly how to pull rank on someone for whom rank actually mattered. Even as she hated every second of it.

Maxwell’s silver eyes bored into hers, and he growled again. Unflinching and unmoving and unwilling to back down.

Until he wasn’t.

The next second, there was a sudden, unexpected softening in his silvery glare. An acceptance, maybe. Or a change of heart.

She couldn’t help but think something had changed, though she hadn’t even done anything yet.

“No,” he said simply, then tilted his head. “I wouldn’t dream of threateningyou.”

Rebecca couldn’t tell if that was sarcasm or if he was being serious. But it didn’t matter anymore.

The standoff had suddenly come to an end, and now she realized he was standing way too close.

“Great.” Unable to keep her gaze from dropping to his bare chest, she scoffed, pretended to dismiss the whole thing, and took two steps back before spreading her arms. “Put a fucking shirt on, will ya?”

Maxwell blinked slowly, then looked down at his bare torso beneath the unbuttoned shirt he’d snagged off the line. Then he met her gaze again and almost smirked. “Something bothering you, Roth-Da’al?”

A bitter laugh escaped her. “So many things, Max. Believe me. Like, for instance, if my Head of Security’s gonna be such a stickler for the rules, he needs to follow them.”

She looked him up and down again—bare chest rippling with well-defined muscle even in the low light; the snugly fitting cargo pants that definitely weren’t his; bare feet digging into the earth.

“And I wouldn’t exactly call that regulation,” she added glibly. “Would you?”

“Funny.” His tone had completely changed now, matching hers with its level of apathy and unaffectedness. Like he wanted her to think he really didn’t give a shit.

Rebecca was only playing that part right now. Because if she let herself give in to her frustration, she’d end up doing something to him she would instantly regret.

Like severely injuring him.

Or revealing her Bloodshadow power and her true nature to him, effectively putting herself in his debt.

Or jumping his bones out here in the middle of nowhere between two crumbling trailer homes…

Jesus. That kind of thinking had to stop.

As Maxwell slowly buttoned up his stolen shirt—a nice blue and gray flannel that somehow made his eyes look even more silver than they already were—she caught a glimpse of him watching her. Not quite smirking but almost, like he thoroughly enjoyed how much he’d just pissed her off.

Whether he took his sweet time to finish dressing himself in other people’s clothes on purpose was anyone’s guess. But at least it gave her time to cool off.

And to realize that what the two of themreallyneed right now was a truce. Temporary if it had to be, fine, but something was better than nothing. It had to be, if they were going to make it through this less-than-ideal scenario of Rebecca sitting in the commander’s seat and neither of them all too happy about it.

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