“Eliijah and his team were ambushed on the trade route. Definitely Tanakan, but they gave up very little information before Eliijah eliminated them –” Pax begins, but Roarke cuts in.
“That’s too close for comfort. Was it –”
Pax’s eyes pulse, Thane cutting back in to answer, “No.”
“We can’t stay here much longer,” Seth says, motioning to the domain around us. “We’re sitting ducks.”
Everyone turns angry eyes on him because stating the obvious is one of his worst qualities. Aside from the cabin itself, the domain is open, without cover, and in a bowl. Even I can see there are vantage points all around us.
“We can’t leave,” Roarke states. “And the wards are strong. Call the Sabers back in and retrieve the keys – we’re safer with –”
This time Pax cuts in, pulling two necklaces with small diamond like pendants on them. “I already took the keys. Jada is the only Saber with one in her possession, so the others have a safe way in.”
All of the guys look relieved. I wish I felt it – but I’m currently half-over Roarke’s shoulder. And my stomach’s growling, it still feels like morning, maybe closer to morning tea than breakfast, but either way I’m starving.
Pax sticks the keys back in his pocket. “The ambush was two men, easily overpowered. Focus on the bubble and the Spring. Seth, help me with a Location Potion.”
“It won’t work. I thought about that, but it’s a basic level Potion and Eydis has much stronger magic.”
“Everything’s worth a try,” Seth says.
“Fine, you work on that, and I’ll keep researching,” Roarke says handing me off to Killian, like I weigh nothing.
Darkness slings me over his shoulder, then turns toward the stream once more. “I’ll keep her safe,” he says without turning back, but his steps do slow. “I’ll even wash her.”
I’m looking over Killian’s shoulder, which gives me the perfect view of Pax’s eyes flashing gold. But he doesn’t follow or issue another order. Roarke pats him on the shoulder and reluctantly Pax turns. Sometimes it’s weird the way these guys trust each other, and other times the things that set them off seem unexplainable. Not sure if that’s a male thing, a brother thing, or a Saber thing, or just a side effect of knowing me.
“Why am I carrying you?” Killian mumbles.
“Because I was contemplating killing Rose,” I mutter back.
His body jolts with two sharp almost-laughs. “You stink.”
“Thank you,” I drawl.
“Onions. Jealousy burns like cutting onions.”
Oh. “That actually explains a lot.”
“Other people’s barely registers to me, but you. You make my eyes water. You’re jealous as fuck, and you can’t attack Rose. You can’t attack any of them.”
“Yeah, Roarke thought that would be stupid too. I agree.” I leave out the part where I hadn’t planned on actually attacking – I was just thinking about it.
Rose was helping me – and I was learning more with her in a few minutes than I’d learned in days with the guys. If I jumped at Rose, at least three of my guys would have joined in instantly. Well, maybe two – Seth would have found it funny… actually maybe just Roarke – Killian would have enjoyed watching her kick my ass, and Pax would be frozen.
So really, I was screwed.
“Why?” Killian asks.
“No reason.”
He makes a grunting noise – an ‘I don’t believe you’ sound.
“I’m not telling you about it, Killian,” I say as he continues to walk us away from the cottage – up the stream.
“I already know about it. I was watching,” he says.
With two sudden, bounding steps we’re in the deepest part of the stream. The spot where the freezing-chuckin’-cold water is deeper than I can stand.
“Killian!” I squeal, climbing higher on his shoulder and trying to push on his head like maybe I can climb all the way out of the water.
“I told you, you stink,” he says, chuckles actually.
He’s enjoying this.
“It’s cold,” I manage, hugging onto him for dear life. I even try to plead with him using his weak spot. “And you’ll get my darts wet.”
“I’ll oil them later.” Then he grips my hips and pushes me back – all the fight leaving me as I meet his clear emerald eyes.
Clear. Bright. Green like a gemstone. None of the black at all. Like in this moment the Darkness isn’t spilling from his soul.
I struggle to breathe as I look past the deep scar down his face, just those eyes. Then, those lips. Damn, I really want to kiss him right now.
“Since you can’t swim, you’d better hold your breath,” he says.
Then he lets go of me, and for a few terrifying seconds, my arms and legs flounder desperately.
“Why?” I manage to gasp.
“Your hair,” he says, putting his hand on my head and pushing me under.
I try to scream, but I’m under too quickly and only manage strangled bubbles. He begins scrubbing at my hair with both hands. Bralls, it hurts.
On the upside, he pushes me down far enough that my feet brush the pebbles and rocks on the bottom, and I manage to propel myself upward. Just as he gives up trying to hand-scrub my head. He grabs the front of my shirt and takes a few steps back so I can stand. Once I’ve stopped struggling.
Then without hesitation, he rips his shirt off.
I’m sure he does it quickly – grabs the hem, over his head, tosses it up on shore.
But my half-frozen brain sees it in slow motion. Hand gripping the hem of his white cotton and now see-through shirt. My new favorite shirt. His bicep tensing. Pulling the shirt up to reveal muscle after muscle in the perfectly crystal-clear, spring-fed water – adonis belt, abs, man, does he have a lot of abs, chest. If I could whistle, this might be the perfect moment. The scar across his chest should remind me of my place, that this guy is deadly, but it doesn’t. Not one bit. Then his shirt
