Page 104 of Of Blood and Banes
I thought such a gesture could instill some peace into our relationship—no,partnership. If we have to tolerate each other and share a bed, perhaps we can at least be amicable. And maybe, justmaybe, it can lead to me learning more about all the secrets of Arterias. Judging by the way he fails to deny it, it must be true he painted those back in Windmere.
With the tip of his boot, he pushes the canvas rucksack away from himself. “I don’t paint anymore.”
My jaw relaxes as I watch him. I need to get to him. I have to figure out a way to crack his impossibly hard exterior. Because trying to win against him in a fight is near impossible without magic. Mentioning his sister is far too risky and sensitive of a topic. Paints don’t work. I could try to get him really, really drunk and see if he slips. But…he’s too cunning for that. And I can’t quite let him out of his manacles to do anything else. What will it take to get an answer out of him?
Just asliver?
A thought strikes me. Perhaps I can seduce him…manipulate him into giving me the information we need.No, Gods, that’s a stupid fucking idea.I slink forward a few steps anyway, staring down at him as my pulse quickens and I swallow.
Don’t even fucking think about it, Kat…
He side-eyes me, glancing from my face down to my feet. “What do you think you’re doing?”
I drop into a crouch two feet away from him, regarding him through lowered lashes.
He leans forward and snags a paintbrush from the materials I brought him, flicking it expertly in his dexterous fingers before pointing it a few inches from my chest.
I scoff, and wordlessly, both of us slowly rise to our feet, my hands splayed out to the side as he stands half a foot over me. Considering how well he fares with a sword, I imagine he can do plenty with even just the brush. He could stab me in the eye with the blunt end, shove it down my throat, snap the wooden handle in half and slice my neck with the sharp, broken edges. He only has to want to.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he growls.
I flick my gaze from his lips up to his eyes. “Looking at you like what?”
“Don’t come any closer,” he warns quietly, pushing the paintbrush’s soft bristles to my chest to keep a few inches between us. “Or you might not like the outcome.”
I stare at him in challenge and step closer. “Are you seriously threatening me with a paintbrush right now?”
“There’s more to life than threatening, kitten.”
“I hope you don’t forget that…” I whisper.
Never faltering from breaking our eye contact, he slowly drags the brush up my chest between my breasts, and it glides over the surface of my shirt up to my naked collarbone.Good, he’s taking the bait.
“Can I ask you something?” he mutters and pulls the brush up my throat until I tilt my chin up to him.
I’m unable to keep myself from swallowing against it, a flash of heat creeping up my chest. This…this is easily becoming amistake. I can see the flashing warning signs as bright as a strike of lighting. But I’m already struck.
Unable to move away from him, I whisper, “No.”
He leans toward me, his nose brushing a few strands of hair off my ear as his warm breath tickles at the corner of my jaw. “Well, I’m going to ask you anyway.”
As if against my own will, I lean my head away from him to angle my ear into his lips.
His voice lowers to a whisper dripping in seduction, “Is the only reason you decided to let me live because you wanted answers?”
“Yes,” I breathe, only able to get out single words as I struggle to contain myself. My eyelids become heavy.
His laugh chuffs against my ear, and my eyes flutter completely closed. I need that vibration. Need it surrounding me, touching me, inside of me. Gods, all the places his mouth could be other than sitting near my ear. Like between my legs, where I dreamt he’d be. The memory of his sensual threat flickers in the back of my mind:I fuck as well as I fight.
He drags his thumb across my lower lip. “Liar. You know you want more than that.”
The accusation makes my eyes flash open, ripping me out of my moment of delirium. I push him away from me, my breath abnormally heavy in my chest as he snickers.Snide, arrogant, pompous?—
My glare flicks down to his lips. For a moment.
A fuckingmoment.
I don’t know who moves first. And quite frankly, I can’t be bothered to care. We crash into each other like the sea against a rock, my lips on his feverish and torrid. I grab the collar of his shirt, throwing my weight half-haphazardly into him to get closer as I swipe my tongue across his lips, and he groans. Groans with a sensuality that heats every fiber in my body. Weclamber back until his body shudders as I slam him up against the wall. The paintbrush in his hand falls to the ground.
