Page 89 of The Spark that Ignites
He blinked at her, almost surprised. “Why so hostile, angel?”
“I swear if you try to hurt me—" Emmery bared her teeth. “I’ll make you regret it.”
He stopped several paces away and raised his hands, palms out. “Who said I was going to hurt you?” The bastard was amused. A smile lit his voice though his mouth didn’t get the message.
Hand shaking, she snapped, “I thought it was implied. After watching you brutally murder those people.”
“Oh that? That was merely business. A misunderstanding, really. I’m not interested in harming innocent women.” Heinched closer and Emmery gripped her dagger until her fingers ached. “I only wish to chat.”
“Chat?” She scoffed, eyeing the sword strapped to his back. It was half the size of Vesper’s, but it could easily do as much damage. “What could we possibly have to talk about?”
“We have a lot more to discuss than you think.” He took another step closer. “For example, why were you following Guthrie?”
“That’s none of your business,” Emmery snarled. Her heart pounded, her tight chest withholding the air from her lungs.
“You should tell me.” He bit down on his full bottom lip. “I’m not a very patient man and I don't like to be kept waiting.”
“That sounds like your problem, not mine.” The words tumbled from her mouth, and she winced, unable to believe she said it. What good could it do? Encourage him to kill her faster?Idiot.
But his eyes gleamed with fascination at her coarse words. “I’m afraid it’s very much your problem since you’ve piqued my interest.” He took a large step toward her, now only an arm's length away.
Her palm slickened with sweat as she gripped her dagger.
“Tell me and I’ll leave you be,” he offered, his obsidian stare swallowing her whole.
Heart battering her ribcage, she managed, “I’m not afraid of you.”
A sinful laugh rumbled in his chest. “No. It seems you aren’t.”
They stood in silence, eyes locked and challenging one another. She refused to back down though her hammering pulse swept her breath away. He was effortlessly handsome for a murderer, with a strong jawline and full lips that likely had women swooning. But that blackened stare sent a chill down her spine. For some reason he seemed ... familiar. Maybe she had seen him in Bellamere. Especially if his wolf was there.
“Have we ... met before?” She choked out the question.
He tilted his head again in that predatory way. “A long time ago, perhaps.” His answer only raised more questions but her mind quieted as he drew a long knife from his belt and pricked his gloved finger. “I’m in no hurry. I’ll wait all day. Though you should know my patience is wearing thin. And I’m not accustomed to being denied.”
A curse slipped from her lips as she eyed the knife. “Fine ... I was trying to get something transcribed, but you killed that dream when you murdered Guthrie.”
Knife still in hand, he spread his arms as if presenting some big revelation. “See, was that so difficult?” He sheathed it in his belt. “It’s your lucky day. I happen to be fluent in four languages. One of them being the language of seduction.”
“Seduction?” Emmery suppressed a laugh. “You’re mad.”
The man closed the distance between them, the heat off his body caressing hers. She held her breath, butterflies assaulting her stomach at his proximity. What was it with men and alleyways? His minty breath grazed her face as he leaned down, his towering height now more evident than ever. Gods, he could easily overpower her if he chose to. But she hadn’t lied. For some unknown reason, she wasn’t afraid of him. Maybe she should be.
“If you’re interested, I could teach you,” he offered, the words velvety and dripping with midnight promise.
“I was never a very good student,” she said, hushed but steady. “I also don’t make a habit of fucking murderous men I meet in alleys. The last one didn’t go so well.” Grinning wickedly, she added, “I would say you should ask him, but you can’t. He’s dead.”
The corners of the man’s mouth twitched as if he fought a smile. His lips looked so soft. “Maybe you never had an adequate teacher.”
The breath whooshed out of Emmery’s lungs as they shared the same air. It was entirely too hot in this alley. Her face flushed a bright red, the colour creeping up her neck.
Unfazed, he straightened his spine. “Now, what was it you wanted me to transcribe?”
Emmery clutched the watch head in her palm. There was no way she was giving this to him. He could easily lie. Make anything up and she wouldn’t know the difference. But his gloved fingers brushed hers, and for some ludicrous reason, the tenderness of his touch made her press it into his palm. He leaned to examine the text, the chain still secured around her neck pulling them closer. Her breath hitched.
“What does it say?” she mumbled, her voice embarrassingly winded.
His eyes flicked to hers and held them for a moment. “It reads:Time is the key to all locks. Does that mean anything to you?” He watched her closely as Emmery shook her head, words escaping her. No, it really didn’t. Her mother had a strange fascination with time, but with Emmery’s immortal life, it wasn’t an interest they shared. Other than her unspoken fear of eternally walking this life alone.
