Page 31 of Sacrifice
"Saga!" Soren jumps up, pulling me into a bear hug. My little brother's not so little anymore—six-two and built like Dad. "Missed you!"
"Missed you too, brat." I ruffle his hair, ignoring Emil's eyes on me. "How's school?"
"Good. Boring. You know." He glances between me and Emil, grin widening. "So this is the guy who's always staring at you?"
"Soren!"
"What? It's obvious. Dude looks at you like?—"
"Like she's fascinating," Emil interjects smoothly. "Which she is."
"I'm right here," I snapped. "And I'm not fascinating. I'm annoyed."
"Often the same thing," Emil observes.
Dad clears his throat. "Sweetheart, the club has put some new security protocols in place. Apparently, we've got some new players in town."
"Los Coyotes," Magnus confirms, and I notice how Emil's jaw tightens. "Nothing confirmed, but better safe than sorry."
"Is that why there are prospects patrolling?" I ask.
"Among other reasons." Emil's looking at me again, that intense stare that makes me want to squirm. "Some people don't take their safety seriously."
"Some people don't need babysitters," I fire back.
"No? How many dates you been on this week with men who couldn't protect you from a strong breeze?"
"At least they don't scare off everyone who looks at me!"
"I don't scare offeveryone." He leans back, all casual arrogance. "Just the ones who aren't worth your time."
"You don't get to decide?—"
"Okay!" Soren interrupts, looking between us with obvious amusement. "This is fun and all, but I'm starving. Mom said something about barbecue?"
Dad stands, clapping Soren on the shoulder. "Come on, son. Let's get food before these two really get going."
They leave, Magnus following with a knowing look. Leaving me alone with Emil.
"You get my text?" he asks, voice dropping low.
"The creepy stalker one? Yeah, I got it."
"Not creepy. Considerate. Wanted to make sure you had sweet dreams."
"The only dreams I have about you involve your bloodshed."
"Liar." He stands, moving closer. Too close. I can smell his cologne, see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes. "But we can incorporate violence if that's what you're into."
"You're disgusting."
"And you're beautiful when you're pissed off." He reaches out, fingers barely grazing my arm. "Which is often, so really I'm just stating facts."
I jerk away from his touch, hating how my skin burns where he touched me. "Don't."
"Don't what? Touch you? Compliment you? Point out the obvious?"
"All of the above."
