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Raider, frowning, didn’t take them.
“What?” Seth asked.
“I left them. You could easily have sold them.”
“That doesn’t mean I would. I’m not a thief. Or a cheat.”
Gods, why could he not get control of his damn mouth? The points were relevant; maybe that was why. Because working with someone so unprincipled, relying on him?
Frustrating at best. Downright dangerous at worst.
But the man was still Seth’s best chance of completing his mission.
Raider had to peel himself off the wall to take the kaftan and sheath from Seth’s hand. He did it with a grunt of effort. His abdominal muscles contracted and the drink sloshed in his cup. Setting the bundle on the ground, Raider settled against the wall again.
Apparently, it had been too much to hope that Raider would put the kaftan on.
Raider said, “If you think it’s cheating to use one’s natural advantages, even by surprise, then I was definitely right and you don’t belong in the Kesh. Because she’s a nasty bitch with more tricks than me. And I only survive her because of my natural advantages—which you don’t have.”
“So that was your point? With the fight?”
“That was my point. Doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy it. So did you.” When Seth didn’t respond, Raider pressed, his voice sharpening, “Admit it.”
Definitely not as drunk as he looked. Too much focus in those amber eyes, which narrowed at Seth’s stubborn silence.
“Fine,” Seth admitted. “I enjoyed it.”
When Raider’s usual grin returned, Seth was struck by how different Raider’s face could look. It was the same almost-too-prominent cheekbones over hollow cheeks, the same fine, straight nose, all of it somehow so damn striking, so damn hard to look away from. But that face could look charming and easy—or it could look pretty fucking dangerous.
Raider seemed to prefer the former. Body loosening, clearly pleased by Seth’s admission, Raider patted the bench beside himself.
“Sit. Have a cup of raaki. And if you try to fucking pay for it again, I swear on the head of my boy Jasmine—”
“Wait. Jasmine is … not a girl?”
Raider looked to the dog again, who rolled soft brown eyes at him.
“Should we even let him drink with us?”
“Who the hell named him Jasmine?”
“When he was a puppy, he slipped his collar one night and broke into Nadja’s perfume shop, where he had a nice little romp. The evidence of his guilt was overpowering. He positively reeked—of jasmine.”
Seth surprised himself with a laugh, which did something funny to Raider’s grin, softened it somehow. That softening triggered a strange feeling in Seth’s chest. One that was even less comfortable than his usual annoyance.
Needing something else to focus on, Seth crouched to meet the dog. He was really more of a cat person, but he let the dog sniff him then scratched Jasmine’s chin when he lifted it from Raider’s ankles.
Meanwhile, Raider leaned over to the table and poured raaki into another cup. He held it out to Seth.
It was lucky, Seth knew, that Raider kept making these openings. Seth needed them—because he needed Raider. And because he was having such a hard time accepting that fact.
It was easy enough, though, to accept the cup. Slightly harder to make himself sit on the bench beside the man, but Seth managed it.
The bench wasn’t very big, so they were almost touching, especially with the extra crowding from Seth’s gear and weapons. Seth felt far too aware of that fact and of the other man’s body, bare from the waist up, muscles carved under smooth bronze skin. Heat crept its traitorous way down through Seth’s chest and gut.
“Your advantages,” Seth began before that heat could reach its destination. “They’re hardly natural. They’re arcane.”
When Seth had recovered from his surprise, when he’d thought about that shoulder guard, the truth had been obvious. He’d never seen quicksilver used like that, but the smooth liquidity, the pearlescent gleam?
