Page 24 of Dark OZ

I pursed my lips because, damn it, he had a point. I hadn’t even thought that the coding of the stone could be tracked, but of course it could.

Crowe took the mug from me, sitting it on the counter beside us. Then he grabbed the towel I was clinging to. Slowly, he reeled it in until our lips were only inches apart. “I, on the other hand, could be convinced to keep you.” He closed the space between us. The heat of his lips brushing against mine caused the blood in my veins to spike. It moved in a rush that ran all the way down to the soles of my feet and spread out until every part of my body felt hot with it.

As much as that soft contact thrilled me, I didn’t kiss him back. The sourness of betrayal was still too fresh to trust myself with the raw vulnerability that came from kissing someone. Perceptive as always, Crowe released my lips.

“Why don’t you tell me what had you screaming loud enough I could hear you from the office upstairs.”

“I couldn’t possibly have screamed that loudly. We’re in the basement.”

“I guarantee you I can make you scream loud enough to wake the entire Eastern Territory, even from the basement… also, when you throw the soap dish at the button on the intercom, it makes it real easy to be heard upstairs.”

“Oh.” I looked at the wall where I had aimed my fury. The panel and its green button blinked at me. As if it was mocking me for my stupidity.

“Was it Em? Or Eastin? Fuck, I’d even believe you were screaming at Danny. I know I’ve woken up plenty of times wanting to cuss Dandy out.”

“Dandy?”

“Ohhh.” He said with a feral smile, “I guess after the emerald thing, you deserve a win, and what do I care if it pisses Danny off? He pulled a gun on us last night. He deserves a little torment.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I can’t wait to see his face when he realizes you know. Danny’s full name is… wait for it, you’re going to love this.” Crowe’s face was positively alight with wicked joy. “Dandelion.”

“Bullshit.”

Crowe shook his head, crossing his heart with an index finger. “Honest to Ozma. His mother lived on a homestead outside the Ozmandrian borders. She named all her kids after flowers in tribute to the Goddess of Spring, or some shit like that. Danny’s sisters were named Daffodil, Dahlia, and Daisy.”

“And Dandelion,” I said with a smirk. “He was the only boy?”

“The only boy. After she died, Dandy went to live with his grandmother.”

Danny was an orphan, too. I didn’t want anything to make me sympathize with the asshole, but there was a unique kind of kinship that came with knowing you shared similar pain with someone.

“The first day at his new school, he took an epic beating from a little punk, bitch. The kid broke his arm and busted his face over something as silly as a name. After that, Dandy dropped the D and became Danny.”

“What happened to the bully?”

“Currently?”

I nodded.

“At the moment, he has his legs wrapped around the most beguiling creature he’s managed to ensnare in quite a long time.” The wrap of his body tightened around mine in emphasis.

“It was you,” I said with disbelief. “You beat a poor, innocent child over his name?”

“I wasn’t always so nice. Time changes all things.”

“And you’re not fucking with me?”

“No, although…” The blue of his eyes dipped to the towel. “I could be.” He fingered the terrycloth covering my breasts. Crowe’s fingers ran beneath the upper edge, brushing lightly against my chest in slow, sweeping strokes that pushed lower with each pass.

He didn’t mean it seriously. I knew it was a flirtation, just as everything he’d said since we met was. But it didn’t stop my heart from slamming against my ribs, caught somewhere between alarm and excitement.

Without meaning to, I inched towards him. My hips pressed into the curve of his. The carefully crafted space between us all but disappeared. He smelled like warmth. A heady, earthy combination of amber and cedar. Being caught in his gravity felt like lying in a field on a summer day. My skin hummed with a need to be warmed by it.

It took me too long to lift my eyes from what his hand was doing. But when I did, I immediately regretted it. Because the look he was giving me wasn’t merely flirtatious anymore. It flamed with desire. The heat of his skin met his eyes and burned away all of my common sense. I wasn’t thinking about the pain or the distrust. The only danger I could think about was the kind promised by that look. I wanted his hands on me in a touch that was more than bracing and to know what the weight of his body would feel like pressed against mine.

I swallowed hard, blinking in an attempt to free myself from his lure. It wasn’t working. I needed to feel like more than a victim, and beneath his gaze, I felt like anything but.

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