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His head whips toward me and he makes eye contact for the first time since his palms left my body when he abruptly stopped frisking me.
“I assume you were jacking off out there. It’s okay. I’ve never been in rut, but it must be intense. Frankly, I’d rather you take care of yourself than use superhuman effort to suppress what sounds like raging hormones. You don’t have to be embarrassed. Not with me.”
His mouth pops open and his eyes narrow, as though he’s seeing me for the first time. While he takes my measure, I take his.
When I first met him, all I could pay attention to were his differences. I mean, those antlers are at least a foot tall. I wonder how heavy they must feel, especially when he runs.
Now, though, I can see past the shaggy hair that covers him from the waist down. His face is… more than handsome. Almost too good-looking, although that isn’t possible, right? A perfectly straight nose, full lips, and high cheekbones balance a strong square jaw.
His eyes, though, are what capture my attention the most. Long, dark lashes frame eyes so deep and brown they seem to hold the secrets of the universe. Even when his face is serious, there’s a sparkle in those eyes that suggests he knows something I don’t.
If he wasn’t in rut, if every aspect of our brief time together hadn’t been fraught with bad news and necessary threats, I wonder if those eyes could sparkle in mischief or crinkle with laughter.
All in all, he looks strong, confident, and masculine in the most unexpected way—as though he could leave you breathless and hungry for more all at once. At first glance, you wouldn’t expect such beauty from someone so wild.
“Uh…” He was about to say something in response to my jacking-off comment, but simply shrugs and ducks through the bathroom door.
I’m boiling water when he bugles again. The mournful sound is so loud and resonant that the salt and pepper shakers vibrate on the laminate counter. Perhaps he’s taking care of himself again. Hopefully, that will take the edge off enough that the sensual looks he gives me will subside for a while. When he gazes at me like that, it ramps me up as well, and I don’t think that’s good for either of us.
Chapter Twelve
Sylas
I’m clean and took care of myself again in the shower. I should be able to manage through dinner before another surge of lust overcomes me.
All my life has been spent around other males. If another splicer were in the kitchen cooking, I wouldn’t have even bothered to sling a towel around my hips. I’m wearing it out of deference to Cally.
It’s only when her eyebrows flash up toward her hairline and her mouth makes a little O of surprise that I realize my gaff—wearing only a towel isn’t proper. I trot to the counter to grab another pair of shorts out of my pack, then hurry to the privacy of the bathroom to pull them on.
“Sorry,” I call through the closed door. “Didn’t think. Never been around a—”
“Woman before.” She finishes the sentence for me.
She sounds calm, almost happy. That couldn’t be right, could it? Instead of being scandalized, her voice is filled with humor.
When I rejoin her and slide onto a stool on the other side of the kitchen bar, she asks, “Feel better?” The way one eyebrow wings up, it’s as though she’s sharing a joke with me. I guess I wasn’t so stealthy when I palmed myself in the shower.
“Loads.” I wondered if my innuendo would be lost on her, but by the low timbre of her chuckle, she got my dirty pun.
She’s stirring the veggies in a skillet, facing away from me when she says, “I wish I didn’t feel as though you’re my jailor, Sylas. Otherwise, I think we could be friends.”
Something hot and sharp coils in my belly as I consider this.
I’m quiet for so long Cally turns to inspect me. Still, I weigh and measure and turn things over in my mind before I remove her lanyard from my neck and set it on the bar countertop between us with a muffled clatter. I eye it for a moment longer, my fingers still clutching it as when playing chess; your turn isn’t over until you completely remove your hand from your chess piece.
“Both your car keys are here,” I finally say as I release the galaxy-colored fabric lanyard.
She spins from where she’s rummaging in the upper cabinet to eye me. By the intensity of her stare, I’ve got her full attention.
“I don’t want to be your jailor. As of this moment, I quit. Take the keys. I’m sorry I confiscated them. Out of anyone on Earth, I should know the value of free will. Run away if you want. Do what you need to do.”
Using the colored fabric of the lanyard, I spin the keys in a circle, avoiding Cally’s penetrating gaze. She hasn’t said a word, knowing there’s got to be more to come in my little speech.
“You do what you want, Calliope Quinn, but be forewarned that I will do what I must as well. My safety, perhaps my life and that of my friends, depends on secrecy. Until the army rescued me, I was kept in the dark about everything except how to hunt and kill and stay alive. Since then, I’ve gotten up to speed about the world by spending hours a day on the Internet.”
I quit fiddling with the keys and spear her with my focused gaze.
“If the general population finds out about us accidentally, without a perfectly coordinated PR campaign, I have no doubt things will go badly. I will do everything in my power to prevent that.”
