Page 87 of Deadwood
“Pernicious,” I filled in.
He frowned, dribbling a small portion of the magic over my minor cut that very easily would have healed on its own.
“You think I’m evil,” he stated.
“I don’t know what to think,” I repeated.
He looked up at me again, and I forced myself to look away, my knees threatening to buckle with the intensity of his focus solely on me. “Tell me what you’d like to think, and why you’re refusing to allow yourself to do so.”
I swallowed, hating how he’d just called me out so easily.
“I’d like to think you’re good,” I answered honestly. “But everyone I know doesn’t seem to think the same, so why should I?”
He stood, his towering frame pulling my gaze back to him. I tilted my chin up, the back of my head resting against the building. “Siara, Raiden, Flynt—they don’t think I’m good?”
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
He pocketed the vial, not moving to give me space. “Do others always influence you so easily?”
I scrunched my nose. “No.”
He looked down to adjust the sleeves of his leather jacket around his wrists, his fingers brushing my stomach as he did. “Then tell me what you really think of me.”
I tried not to breathe as much to keep my stomach tighter in an attempt to keep his touch away from me, but I was kidding myself. I was enjoying this. The little grazes of his fingertips. The way his body dwarfed mine. I didn’t want it to stop.
“A lady doesn’t share her secrets so easily,” I replied, tilting my chin up in defiance.
A smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. “It’s a good thing no secrets are safe around me.” His eyes pinned mine in place. “Haven’t we been over this, Princess?” He leaned closer, setting a hand on the wall beside my head, and my lips parted on their own accord. I was pressed against the wall at this point, but I didn’t want to move, even if given the chance. “It seems to me you want to keep me here—dodging my questions even though you have the answers.”
“I don’t.” I attempted to sound convincing with my words, but failed.
“Then tell me what you’re thinking.”
My eyelids fluttered as my gaze skipped to his mouth for the flash of a second. Why did I want to know what his lips felt like on mine, and why did I care to find out how he tasted?
“I’m thinking about the paper you shoved in your back pocket,” I blurted, needing to say anything but what I was truly thinking. He didnotneed to know where my mind had just gone.
He arched a brow, dropping his hand back to his side. “Is that so?”
I nodded, humming my response. “Mhmm.”
He studied me, knowing damn well I was lying. “I guess it goes both ways, then.” He looked to the side, eyeing the door I’d come out of before moving his gaze back to me. “A man doesn’t share his secrets so easily.”
He turned away, moving toward the door to the dining hall. “I’ll have Siara replace the pants for you. Get home safe, Auria.” Then he disappeared inside, leaving me standing there with my heart racing for an entirely different reason now.
CHAPTER 28
AURIA
The storm had finally let up, raining sunshine down on the town. Lander had gotten over his frustration at being placed in a separate house once he’d heard Bowen had helped me in the caves, and after he saw Siara and Raiden had stood up for me in the dining hall yesterday morning. Paxon was less inclined to change his opinion, as I’d expected after his stunt with Hanklie.
Lander had visited last night to check on me, and despite the late hour he’d stopped by, I’d found it at least comforting to know he cared in the slightest. He’d likely spent his day gambling, the scent of cigar smoke clinging to him giving his whereabouts away. With a brother like Paxon, I didn’t blame Lander for using it as a stress reliever.
The choice Paxon had presented me with loomed over my head like a lingering cloud. I got the feeling that with the way he’d held me over the chasm, controlling whether I lived or fell to my death in that moment, if I chose wrong, he’d make sure I paid for it.
His threat hung clear in the air, and since that day at the chasm, it was all I could think about. My mind was once again a prison with my thoughts, though this time, I had a choice. And while I didn’t typically have those, I wasn’t feeling very grateful for it now, rather wishing I didn’t have a decision to make altogether.
Oh, how the irony was excruciating.
