Page 91 of Of Blood and Banes
“It is my business if you forced it down my throat. So, you’re going to tell me exactly where?—”
I laugh in his face. “You’re cute if you think?—”
“Ahh, so finally you admit your attraction to me.” He tilts his head to the side, his hair sweeping down into his brow.
Guess he’s back to his regularly scheduled bullshit. He must be feeling much better now. “I’m not telling you anything. At least, not until you tell me what I need to know. That’s the only reason I’m keeping you alive. Now you owe me.”
“Pfft, I owe you nothing. You did me no favors. I wanted to stay dead, and you took the choice from me. If anything, you oweme.”
“I’m sure another opportunity will present itself.” I push off the bed, stalking across the room to gather my clothes and changing into them.
He falls quiet. When I turn back to him, fully clothed, his head rests on a fist, hair a flustered mess and a coy smile on his lips. He doesn’t even bother to hide his lazy infatuation.
“Your turn.” I throw him a set of fresh clothes.
One of his eyebrows raises in question, and he pulls the clothes that landed on the bed toward him, eyeing it for a second before looking back at me. “How do you expect me to change myself? Not sure if you noticed, but my wrists are a bit...” He lifts a hand and shakes the chains.
“I didn’t see you complaining about your restraints limiting your capabilities when you fought Sethan.”
“I have no problem taking my clothesoff, kitten. If you remember, I fuck as well as I fight. But getting my clothes back on will be difficult.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “You’ve never backed down from a challenge before.”
“If you really want me to change, you’ll get your stubborn ass over here and undress me. Unless you’d rather call on someone like Nolan or Archie to help. In which case…they might ask how I managed to survive so miraculously. And I might tell them Katerina Ashbourne?—”
Cole’s last name on his tongue makes me fidget. He still thinks we’re related.
“—pressed herlusciouslips to mine, forced dragon’s breath down my throat, andbeggedfor me to not stop kissing her. Considering you don’t want to disclose where you got that vial from…I’m assuming you don’t want anyone to know you used it. Especially on little ol’ me. Am I right?”
Gritting my teeth, I stare him down.Manipulative asshole.
“Clocks ticking, kitten. And I’m feeling less inclined to keep my mouth shut…”
I mumble a string of incoherent words under my breath and storm toward him. Not wanting to look him in his stupidly smug face, I train my eyes on his chest. I pull cord by cord loose in the crisscrossed tie down the front of his shirt. Grabbing the hem, I tug it up an inch, then realize it’ll be far too complicated to remove while he’s shackled. I grab one of my daggers and place the tip at the bottom of the V in his shirt and slice it down his abdomen.
“Oof,” he hisses playfully. “What a disappointment. I was quite fond of that one.”
I sheathe the dagger at my side and freeze when the fabric splits into two pieces. My eyes flick to his naked, bronze chest—I can’t help it.Good grief, am I so simple as to be distracted by a set of perfectly muscled abs?As I consider shifting my attention to something less damning like his shoulder, my gaze wanders down to his navel.
Damnit.Yes…yes, maybe I am.
He clears his throat. “Like what you see? I have a pretty simple rule of if you look, you touch.”
“Nope,” I grit out, accepting the fact I have to remove his shackles. Working quickly, I unlock them long enough to pull the sleeves off before securing it back on his wrists. Then remove his smoke-stained shirt. Adopting the same strategy of unlocking and locking, I tug the new shirt over him, pulling perhaps a little too roughly to cover his naked skin.
“I don’t believe you. I can see it in your eyes. Can tell by how quickly you breathe?—”
“You’re delusional,” I say as I lace up his new shirt, still avoiding his eye contact.
“And you’re pathetic at hiding the things you want.”
Finally, I glare up at him. “And what is it you think I want?”
“You don’t want someone to be gentle with you. You want rough. Raw. To be tossed around. You’re tired of being treated like you’re some frail thing. You’re not breakable. Or…maybe you’re so broken, you don’t feel like you can break any more. And maybe, there’s a freedom to that. Knowing there’s nothing else you have left to lose.”
I pat his chest with a little force, signaling the end to our conversation now that I have him dressed. “I should have just let you die.”
He grins. “I know.”
