She turns her head to look behind her and then faces me again, her lips pressed together, but she doesn’t move immediately. Instead, she stays firm in her position and watches me for a long silent moment.
I wait for her to speak, but she doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, she just watches me, her eyes focusing on my own and for some reason, I don’t want her to look away. I want those blue eyes on me, though she sees too much of who I am, looks too deeply, far too dratted deeply.
Then, as if the staring contest, the spell, is broken, she turns on her heels and walks over to the table. I watch as she sinks down and then lifts her hand and makes a motion for me to sit across from her. My feet become unstuck from the floor and I march toward the empty seat, sinking down, unable to look away the entire time.
BIRDIE
Even his name is an old-timey western cowboy name. He looks exactly like one too, like an old west cowboy, but hotter than any of the pictures I’ve seen in my history books.
Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I think about the fact that I’m here, in this reenactment place, but there aren’t any other people looking around and ogling this hot guy. There aren’t any tourists anywhere at all.
Then there’s the fact that we’re sitting on the furniture, something that I’m pretty sure is a huge no-no and the food in front of me is on a silver platter, a really pretty one, a really old looking one. No way would a historical reenactment place allow that shit.
Slowly, I reach across the table and pluck an apple slice from the tray. Bringing it to my lips, I’m a bit surprised to find that it’s room temperature, expecting a cold apple the way that I usually eat them. Then, once I’ve chewed and swallowed the slice, I take a few grapes, which are also at room temperature.
Wrinkling my nose, I reach for the silver cup in front of me that happens to match the platter beautifully and take a sip of the, once again, room temperature water.
“Everything is room temperature,” I point out.
He lifts a brow and watches me for a moment. “This is something you’re pointing out to me…”
“Don’t you have a fridge? A freezer?” I ask.
He doesn’t say anything immediately, instead he continues to watch me. He leans back in his chair, his gaze focused on mine and nowhere else. He still doesn’t speak and I wait for what he’s about to say, knowing that he has something on his mind.
Personally, I just want to know where the hell I am and where my sisters are. Sitting up a little straighter, I lean forward slightly, trying not to blush at the way he stares at me, never wavering, his gaze intense and far too sexy for his own good, plus there’s the way his green eyes sparkle.
“How about this?” I suggest. “I ask a question, you give me an answer. You ask a question, I give you an answer.”
He leans back in his seat even farther, his eyes still never leaving mine and his lips curve up into an even bigger smile. He lets out a chuckle as he lifts his hand and rubs his palm against his chin a few times.
“I could do that. Except, I won’t be answering your questions and you’ll be answering all of mine.”
My lips part, then I snap them closed and narrow my eyes on his. “That’s not fair,” I point out.
He chuckles, and it sounds like smooth warm honey and I hate it, mainly because I like it so damned much. I should be terrified of this guy, but I’m not. I should be demanding to know where the hell I am and where my sisters are, but he has me mesmerized.
I am in serious awe of him. Complete and total serious awe and I hate myself for it more than I hate him.
“Life isn’t fair, darlin’ and I’m not either. I don’t have to be, considering I’m the one in charge of this entire country.”
“In charge?” I ask.
His lips twitch. “That’s a question and I shouldn’t answer it.”
“But you will,” I snap.
He dips his chin. “I will, mainly because I’m starting to believe you don’t know exactly who I am. Though, I think you know why you’re here, but I don’t and I aim to figure that out right soon.”
I open my mouth to tell him that I don’t know why I’m here or where here even is, considering one of his men brought me to this house, to him, but I decide not to cause a stink. He’s talking to me and I’m more than eager to find out what the fuck is actually going on here.
“I’m the ruler of this entire country. I was appointed by the Assembly and I am the highest authority. Now, please tell me how you wound up walking in my desert, not only in my country, but on my personal land?”
I blink. Then I blink again. My throat goes dry and I think about bursting out laughing, except my hands start to shake and my throat closes up, because he’s being completely serious which means he’s fucking crazy.
Lifting one of my shaky hands, I run my fingers through my hair, trying to think of a question that he may answer. Something simple that will tell me a lot.
“What is the name of this country, where am I?”
He arches a brow, and he’s quiet. I think that he’s not going to answer me, but then he does. “You’re in the country of Devilrise, we’re a dry, dusty, desert country. But specifically, you’re in the Silverridge.”
I think really hard about laughing and try to hold it in, but I can’t. It bubbles out of me, no matter how hard I try to keep it inside. “Devilrise, Silverridge?
