Her pulse quickened again. She’d enjoyed plenty of one-night stands, a fling of passionate fucking then a swift farewell. Quick. Clean. A clear head to focus afterward.
So why did Antal’s eyes still leave a prickle everywhere theybrushed? Why was she pressing herself against the wall, fighting the urge to fall into his arms all over again?
“We shouldn’t stay up too late,” Fi said. “We have a metal heist to plan.”
“We do,” he agreed. Too easy.
What was Fi thinking,letting him shove her against the wall?
They still had to work together. They still had to sleep in the same room together. How easy would it be to invite him into her bed? Test how warm he felt curled beside her. See what else the night led to…
Shit.
She had aproblem.
“One time,” Fi reminded him. Or her. Or who the fuck knew.
Antal watched the scowl twist her face, his grin curled as if beholding the most amusing creature in all the Planes.
“Of course.” He laid a hand over where his heart ought to be. “On my word.”
The taunt made Fi press her thighs together, hot and slick from what he’d done to her.
Antal backed away. Yet they couldn’t flee too far from each other, could they? He went to her tub to wash. The moment he pulled off his shirt, that view of lithe back muscles and rolling shoulders, the scandalous taper of his waist… Fi made herself look away.
She had only one productive way to go from here: when Antal finished with the tub, she went about her nightly routine as if not a damn thing had happened.
She bathed the remnants of him off her. It shouldn’t have felt so skin-prickling, being naked in the same room, after she’d just moaned for him. She dressed for bed behind the cover of her wooden screen. Antal drifted in her periphery, givingher the space requested. Only the twitch on his lips betrayed anything awry.
As the time came for sleep, the firmest line was drawn: Fi on her mattress, Antal perched in her rafters, a contented grin as his tail swayed beneath him. She risked one final glance up at him. One final flush to her cheeks.
It would be so easy. A few simple words to ask him to join her.
“Good night, Antal.”
He slitted one eye open, a glow of red in the dark.
“Sleep well, Fionamara.”
28
Let’s pretend that never happened
Fi crouched on a snowy bluff, bundled in her dark coat with ermine ruff. The Bridge connecting the Winter and Autumn Planes stretched as a valley of ice and peat between two ridgelines. Above the jagged peaks lay nothing but Void. No stars. No moon. A crimson aurora glinted over snow and metal rails transecting the valley floor.
Through her binoculars, Fi spotted movement down the tracks. The trans-Plane train departed Winter earlier that morning, shuttling passengers and cargo between worlds. Anticipation stoked her against the cold.
“It’s coming,” she said.
“Odd,” Antal mused. “You didn’t givemethat much warning.”
Fi couldn’t flinch.
Couldn’t blush.
The last dregs of her pride depended on keeping her lips flat, her shoulders steady, her brow delicately raised as she turned a bland look upon her heist partner.
Antal lounged against the slope, watching her with chin propped on one hand and tail swishing slow amusement. Daeyari weren’t bothered by cold, yet the deep cut of his shirt was unnecessary, the dark fabric unbuttoned to reveal a swath of muscled chest. His pants seemed tighter than usual, framingthe easy recline of his hips in a way that made Fi want to snarl at the utter unfairness of this new assault on her dignity.
