Page 17 of Lana Pecherczyk
“I don’t see it.”
“Look—” She rubbed the flaw with her thumb. “With a little polish and buff, something sparkly reinforcing the break, she’s not just beautiful. She’s stronger than ever before.”
“So … youdolike shiny things.” He smiled—a lazy, smug gesture—and it was worse than his smirk. It made every cell in her body clamor, begging her to inch closer.
“You missed the point.”
“Which is?”
“You wouldn’t get it.”
His big fingers wrapped around the vase and tugged, but this time, she refused to let go. The action yanked her closer and fired a challenge in his eyes. He kept pulling. If she didn’t let go, she’d fall against him.
The vendor busied herself at the far end, stacking cushions that needed no rearranging. Blake swallowed hard, released the vase, and tried to focus on anything but the Guardian. Yet hergaze drifted back, unbidden, to him, examining the vase like it held answers to questions he’d never asked. Maybe he actually wanted to know.
The strangest part was that despite the violence she’d witnessed earlier, she didn’t feel like her life was threatened now. She was alive. Two feet and a heartbeat. That counted for something, right?
Forcing an exhale, her breath tickled her cleavage, reminding her of what she’d tucked there. She glanced down. Then up. He still studied the vase. Down again. Her phone had slipped deeper. Another move, another jiggle, and it would fall down her stomach to the ground. Actually, that could work. If she let it fall, and the Guardian arrested her, or whatever they did, maybe she could return later and find it. Giving it up felt like surrendering a piece of her soul.
“What you got there, Sparkles?”
She slapped her hands over her breasts. “Nothing.”
The Guardian’s laugh was rich and deep. His shoulders shook with mirth, his posture loose, his head tossed back. Maybe those vendors had it all wrong. He wasn’t dangerous. His laugh wouldn’t seem so genuine and carefree if he were … would it?
Her eyes lowered over his body, over the muscular torso hidden behind the uniform, and caught on the daggers. Lots of them were strapped to a belt beside an even scarier weapon—a sharp, curved blade resembling a frisbee.
Danger.
Also, metal. The contradiction was another in the unending line of confusion.
“Listen, mate,” she said, forcing confidence into her voice. “Be straight with me. Am I under arrest?”
“Mate?” Dark eyebrows shot up. “Getting ahead of yourself there, aren’t you, Sparkles? We only just met.”
“It’s a figure of speech. And stop calling me sparkles. Or mouse. I have a name.”
“Oh? Care to share it?” His grin was infuriating.
“I don’t think I will. Am I being arrested or what?”
“Or what. I’m River.” He stared. Waited. “You know, like the best body of water the Well has ever blessed this world with?” He stared some more. “This is where you tell me your name. It’s polite.”
She rolled her eyes and tried to step away.
His hand shot out, grasping her wrist. “Not so fast. We still need to discuss your … attire.”
“Myattireis none of your business.”
“Yes, it is.”
“I don’t understand. You said you’re not arresting me.”
“I said, ‘or what?’” His gaze flicked over her body, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine. One look from him and her hormones betrayed her. She hadn’t felt this intensely drawn to someone since … well, not even Jeff had made her squirm with a heated look.
“That dress has to go,” River announced.
Wait. What?
