Page 115 of Grim
Before I can pull away, he takes my hand, sliding two fingers behind mine, lifting it just enough to press a kiss to my knuckles. The act is measured, intimate, and very deliberate.
Kane steps in with unnatural speed, and a split second later, he’s squeezing Asher’s wrist in a steel-clad hold. His voice is flat, but it simmers with threat. “That’s enough,” he rasps possessively.
Asher’s brows rise in mock surprise. “Enough what, Kane?”
Asher and Kane square off, a pair of undeniably attractive brutes.
Asher continues, “Hospitality? Affection? I knew you lacked culture, but did they not teach you manners in France either?Sacrebleu.” He butchers the word with a grin, teeth flashing behind the mask. He doesn’t pull away. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Doc. Thought you’d evolved past that particular weakness.”
“And I thought you’d evolved past being a lecherous little leech,” Kane mutters, releasing him with obvious reluctance.
“Ooh. An alliteration. How poetic.” Asher’s eyes flick to me again, teasing. “Tell me, darling, how does our Kane look when he’s undone? All that brooding control—does it crack, or does itshatter?”
“Just leave the girl alone, Ash. Go find another of your forlorn souls to keep you entertained.”
“And what if I want to play with this one?”
“She’s off-limits,” Kane responds.
“Why? Because she’s wormed her way into what used to be your heart, Kane?”
Kane doesn’t answer. But the look he gives Asher is a grey cloud warning of a powerful storm.
I don’t like being spoken about like I’m not in the room, so I cut in, my voice sharper than I intended it to be. “You two know I have ears, right?”
Asher bows slightly. “Apologies. Just admiring your gravity. You pull focus in a room full of immortals, Rue. That’s no small feat.”
I glance at Kane. His hands are curled into fists at his sides.
“She’s my responsibility,” he says finally, voice like stone. “Until she crosses.”
Kane doesn’t look at me when he says it; he’s too busy staring down Asher like he’s ready to draw blood. And maybe he doesn’t even realize the impact those words have on me.
The words land like a slap. Clinically clean and completely dismissive.
“Until tomorrow,” I mumble, my voice quiet.
Asher watches me a moment longer—something devious flickering in his eyes—before turning his attentionback to Kane. “Well,” he drawls, stepping back with a mocking half bow, “you two enjoy the rest of your evening. I’ll leave you to yourresponsibilities.”
He doesn’t wait for a reply. He straightens his coat, tosses me a half smirk, half apology and vanishes into the swirl of masks and shadows.
The silence he leaves in his wake reverberates between the two of us.
I keep my eyes on the dancers still spinning through the last notes of the current sonata, refusing to look at Kane. If I do, I’m not sure what I’ll say. Or worse, what I’ll let show.
But of course, he’s still watching me.
Still close enough that I can feel the heat of him. Still quiet in that maddening way of his.
“You don’t have to keep following me around,” I say, my voice flat. “I get it. The clock is ticking. I’ll try not to fall in a hole or trip into a reaping scythe.”
“Rue—”
“Or maybe you can give Asher the reins. Seems like he’s more than happy to handle yourresponsibilities.”
That gets his attention. His shoulders stiffen. I meet his gaze now, mask to mask, daring him to argue. He does not. But his eyes flare, sharp and stormy.
“That’s not what I meant,” he says, low and tight.
