Page 17 of Discarded (Shifter's Vault 1)

I turned to look at him sidelong. "We witches are full of surprises."

"Maybe I didn't give it enough thought?" he suggested. "I do that sometimes. Make assumptions. Not think things through."

I didn't believe that for a moment. He might have anticipated someone older, or meek, but he wouldn't have presumed anything until he laid eyes on me. Even after that.

"Really?" I asked. "You don't strike me as the rash type."

He shrugged. "I have my moments."

I nodded and stepped over to place my hands on the rail. "The same has been said about me."

"I can't imagine them saying that about anyone who worked for a year to find a way to avoid ending up in virtual slavery." He leaned his back against the rail and crossed his arms over his chest.

One side of my mouth pulled back. "No, they'd put that down to my stubbornness," I replied.

He laughed softly. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

I turned to face him. "Are you honestly saying it's not?"

He hesitated for a moment. "You've met my aunt. I admire women with strength and persistence. And intellect. She'd have my head if I didn't."

I bit back a grin. "I suspect you're right. I would imagine she's not a woman to be crossed."

Interesting that Dex found her intimidating.

"No, she isn't," he agreed. "I'm sure the same can be said about you." His head tilted back slightly as though watching for my reaction.

I shrugged with one shoulder. "Is that why you granted me asylum?"

"Because I'm intimidated, and scared you'd stab me if I didn't?" he asked. His dimple showed again.

I laughed softly. "I'd be dead right now if I even tried."

His smile faded. "You would have if I'd refused, wouldn't you? Used the knife on yourself, I mean."

I paused. "Maybe," I admitted. "Or provoked Bain so he'd have no choice." That was a last resort, but something I factored into my plan. "I just—"

"Couldn't bear the idea of being a slave?" he finished for me.

"Would you?"

He responded with a surprised look. "I've never given it any thought, but I don't think I would care for it too much either. However, at least I would be alive."

I had no reply to that. "You wanted to show me something?"

"In a manner of speaking," he said. "I want to know what your plans are."

"I have no idea. I can't go home." I didn't want to. Home was the past.

Something in my tone drew a chuckle from him. "Let me guess, you can also use a knife, sword or maybe a bow, and you can talk politics like a senator."

"Well—"

He took my hand and ran his fingertips across mine. "Did your parents know you have calluses?"

"My father died when I was three." I shrugged. "My mother taught me sometimes power isn't the right weapon." When Dex didn't reply, I added, "I practiced with a bow, and knives, well out of sight."

Dex threw back his head and laughed. The sound echoed through the deepening dark.

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