Page 34 of Fear the Flames
Perhaps it’s the alcohol that makes my lips loose because I find myself inching closer to his ear, close enough for our thighs to press together. “Do they know….” I can’t exactly talk about the heist in an open tavern. “Do they know where we’re going?”
I pull my face back so I can see him again. It takes a second for recognition to wash over his features, but when it does, he subtly shakes his head no. Relief floods through me because it makes me feel like I’m not making the wrong decision by withholding things until I have more information. And if I’m a bad person, at least I’m not alone in my deviance.
The music abruptly changes. Finnian jolts up in his seat and his wide eyes swing in my direction, “You owe me a dance, my lady.” He stretches to his full height, bowing at the waist and offering me a hand.
“We’ll talk later,” Cayden says into my ear.
I place my hand in Finnian’s, which is the only thing that keeps me steady while rushing to the dance floor. The alcohol in my body washes over me like a fresh wave of giddiness. He stands a few feet in front of me, hands clasped behind his back. The first note sounds, it’s a sharp beat of a drum, and Finnian bows at the waist, outstretching his hand again. The second note sounds, and I curtsy. The third note sounds, and I place my hand in Finnian’s. I twirl under his arm, his hand clasps around my waist, and we join the thrall of dancers.
“He hasn’t taken his eyes off of you,” Finnian shouts over the music.
He doesn’t have to say Cayden’s name. There’s nobody else he could be talking about. We left the conversation on an unfinished note. Maybe he’s watching me because he’s wondering if I’ll tell Finnian right now. “He’s guarding me. It’s part of his job.”
Finnian snorts, spinning me again and resuming the steps. “He never complained once during dress shopping. He looked like he wanted to ram his head through a wall, but he never said a single thing.” We both stumble slightly, but it only adds to the joy building up in my chest from a mixture of music, dancing, and cider. A smile beams on my face as Finnian lifts me in the air in tandem with another sharp drumbeat. He places me back on my feet, and we follow the rest of the steps as best as our floundering feet allow us.
“Stop meddling!” I laugh. “We both know nothing can happen between us.”
“I know men, darling.” I don’t like the way his tone is changing. This is usually when he plays to win. “When this dance is over, go to the bar—order a drink, stand there, I don’t care. I give it five minutes before he’s there.”
“Finnian, you’re being ridiculous. That proves nothing,” I say as we finish the final set of steps.
“If it proves nothing, then do it. You havenothingto lose.” We stop in place, and some people in the tavern clap while requesting another dance. “I’ll keep my eyes on you the whole time. I’m staying on for another dance.” He treads backward and finds a boy with long blonde hair to dance with next.
I roll my eyes and fist my dress so that I don’t trip over the hem on my way to the bar…or let it drag through anything unsanitary. My eyes spot an open place at the counter, and I slide into it, placing my elbows on the wooden surface while glancing at the different barrels of wine, cider, and ale behind it.
“Well, aren’t you a beauty,” a gruff voice next to me states. I was so preoccupied reading the names of all the places the barrels are imported from that I didn’t realize someone approached me. A man in black armor inches forward. His black beard is cut close to his face, and his dark eyes bore into me.
“Good eye,” I note.
On my long list of pet peeves, men randomly coming up to me to flirt is one of them. If I give a smile? Sure, maybe. But if my head is down, I haven’t made eye contact, or I haven’t smiled at you? Leave me alone. He leans his elbow on the bar and inches further into my personal space, stretching a hand toward my arm. I’m about to swat it away but someone else does, pinning the man’s wrist to the bar.
“Angel, I was wondering what time you want to leave?” Cayden asks calmly in my ear, as if he’s not making a grown man squirm beneath his strong grip. His arms cage me on either side, but it doesn’t make me uncomfortable…it makes me feel the opposite. I spin in his arms and press my back into the bar so I can look at him. His tone may be calm, but he’s far from it. That icy glare of his is pinned on the man’s face and I have a feeling he’s committing it to memory. “I’m going to assume you didn’t see her stumble on her way over here,” Cayden snarls before turning his intensity on me. “What did he say to you? I saw you stiffen.”
“He said I was pretty.”
“Damn understatement,” he mutters. My breath catches in my throat, but he can’t hear it over the roar of the tavern or his raging temper.
“C-Commander, I’m sorry. I didn’t know she’s you—”
“Leave.” Cayden releases his hold without taking his eyes off me. I watch the man scramble away from the corner of my eye, tripping over himself to get away from Cayden.
Yours.
The man was going to say that I’m Cayden’s. It’s such a stupid notion to belong to someone. I wholeheartedly believe I’ll never belong to anyone. But given our current situation, I suppose in some backward way, I am his. I’m temporarily his, and he’s temporarily mine. Neither of us can reach our goals without each other, and those goals mean more than anything else ever could. We’re each other’s leverage, a means to an end. My eyes pop over to Finnian, and he flashes me one of the biggest smirks I’ve ever seen on his face. I don’t even think I was standing here for two minutes before Cayden came over.
“I was about to hit him before you stole the show,” I say while swaying between his arms.
His ice melts away as his eyes ping back and forth, following my swaying. “Would you have even been able to land the hit?”
“You want to go a few rounds with me, soldier?” My words don’t carry as much of a threat as they normally would.
“I’m feeling like a gentleman; I’ll give you the first shot.” His sneer has all but completely vanished, and I know I’m in dangerous territory because the only thought my alcohol-induced brain can manage is how handsome he looks.
“Did you come over here to dance with me?” I jest.
He scoffs, “I don’t dance, angel.”
I’m about to push him toward the dancing, but a cold drink slides down the front of my dress, bringing me back to reality and physically washing the delirious thoughts from my brain. Cayden’s glare is back in full force as he removes one arm from the bar and reaches toward the person that spilled their drink on me.
