A corner of his mouth hitches up, as if he can sense the effect he’s having on me.
O. Kay, a little too much confidence… a little arrogance even, Mister Cocky Pants. I’ve run into people like him, Irik case in point, and I’m not having it. “You tell me how you got here, and I might consider lowering my light.”
“Then it seems we are at an impasse. I’m in no rush. I can wait.” I tense as, eyes still closed, he draws his free hand to his jaw and begins tapping a pointer finger against his lips to press his point.
What is it with guys? He’s as irritating as Irik.
“Fine, but if you so much as sneeze, I’ll shine it in your face again.”
“Fine.” His tone turns charming.
Charming my ass, but I lower the light to his chest.
I inhale sharply and my heart picks up pace as soon as he opens his eyes. I’m not sure what I expect, but it definitely isn’t this, not in a million years. A pair of alluring oval-shaped eyes, one gold, the other silver, stare back at me.
He arches one thick, onyx eyebrow and gives me an intense, hawkish glare as I continue staring longer than is polite. I don’t care.
I can’t look away. All my life, eyes exactly like his have calmed me and given me confidence, but in this moment my thoughts scramble.
His eyes are as unique as those I’ve taken comfort from all these years, but they’re definitely not his. No, he’s dangerous. Everything about him says so.
I try not to notice his high cheekbones, full lips, and the fact that his face holds a symmetry I can’t help but call beautiful along with his broad shoulders, lean, muscled legs, his narrow waist, and… other parts.
He smirks as I continue taking him in.
Focus, Pellucid, focus, I tell myself.
He’s dangerous, and I need to concentrate on getting out of here in one piece while preserving my find.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
He pauses tapping his lip long enough to say, “I thought your demand was to know how I got here. Which is it?”
“I want to know both… and more.”
I squeeze the Maglite’s shaft tighter as he draws his arms behind his back. “Rather a bossy thing, aren’t you?”
“I hardly consider learning your name and the… extraordinary… way in which you appeared bossy.”
“If you say so.” He raises one eyebrow and rocks back on his heels.
Silence reigns as his eyes scan the room, taking in the dust and debris dimly illuminated by the light coming in from the stairway. His gaze skims the ceiling, then the walls.
He spots my scroll laid out on the floor and furrows his brow. A second later he looks me up and down, and his eyes stop at my hand, the one with the ring on it.
I fidget as his staring at my hand continues for a full minute. Okay, this guy’s a bit off.
“It was you?” he questions, then shakes his head.
“What was me?”
He frowns, still not replying before continuing to look about. At least he’s not studying my hand anymore. But I know the instant he spots the scrolls because his gaze freezes.
Damn, so much for keeping my find a secret. I’d hoped the Maglite’s beam still trained on his chest would occlude them, but clearly not; the spray of light from my headlamp betrays me.
“What was me?” I repeat, trying to distract him.
He ignores me as his eyes trace the shelves up and down from one end to the other until he finally grunts.
I furrow my brow. “What’s that supposed to mean? And ‘what was me’?”
“Not what I’d hoped had called me.”
“Called you? No one called you, certainly not me.”
Arrogance fills his laugh. “Let me assure you that you called me.”
I frown at that, and he takes advantage of my silence to stride forward, toward me.
“Stop where you are.” I shine the beam in his eyes again, but it doesn’t stop his continued approach.
Heart pounding, I scurry toward the doorway, readying to use the Maglite as a club if I have to. Little comfort, there’s also plenty of rocks to use if I need them. I just hope I’m fast enough.
Please don’t attack me. Please don’t attack me.
The comforting silver and gold eyes I always envision, bolt to the forefront of my mind, but confusion trounces, rather than calm.
You’ve defended yourself lots of times growing up, I tell myself. You can do it again.
But this guy’s different. He isn’t just some stupid, lumbering bully I can humiliate by tripping him, making him fall on his face for others to laugh at.
I pull up short when he stops before the scroll I’ve deciphered, then squats, as I reach the doorway. I pant as I turn back toward him, knuckles white, as I grasp the flashlight.
“It had to be this scroll you translated, of course it did. It couldn’t have been any other.” He scrubs a hand over his scruffy face. “I’m sorry, my lady.”
Is he speaking to the scroll? He’s still staring at it.
What is his deal with staring?
He reaches for the papyrus.
“No, don’t touch it.” I raise a hand. I might be in dangerous straits, but I can’t bear to see him get his oils all over the priceless artifact. “Use my gloves.”
Still squatting, elbows braced on his thighs, he looks up at me and one corner of his mouth rises in a crooked grin as I peel off my rubber gloves and toss them to him. They fall short, halfway between us.
Of course they do. I exhale heavily.
“Protocol?” He gives me a look that says he thinks I’m a cute little thing to insist, as he stands.
I
