She didn’t like the dark.
Mumbling under my breath, I stalked toward the drapes and ripped them down.
Her lips pressed together, but I caught a slight tremble as if she were concealing a smile. “You don’t have to tear down all your curtains. I can manage.”
I cleared my throat and felt heat climb up my neck. “It’s not that. These blasted things haven’t been washed in ages.” I made a show of sniffing the fabric, then I bundled the curtains into a ball and tossed them into the hallway.
She bobbed her head and surveyed the room, not looking convinced by my excuse.
Crossing to my desk, I rifled through the drawers until I located a box of bandages. Unwinding a length of gauze, I waved her over.
“Let me see your arm.”
Liana rolled up her sleeve past her elbow, wincing as the fabric slid over her cut. I pressed a strip of gauze against the wound to stem the trickle of blood. Her teeth clenched.
“Want a shot of whiskey for the pain?”
A laugh burst from her throat. “If you’re offering, I’ll take the entire bottle.”
Keeping the strip of gauze in place, I wound a clean bandage around her arm. “I thought you said it looks worse than it is.”
“I take it back. It hurts like the devil. But I’m still glad I won.” She made a pained face when I tied a knot in the bandage.
“You shouldn’t have done that. It was dangerous and a stupid way to prove a point.”
She didn’t answer, letting my lecture hang in the air. With her wound bandaged, she grew curious again, wandering the perimeter of the room while I put away the supplies. Pausing in front of a shelving unit, she leaned close, studying a collection of stone statues I’d picked up while raiding a famous tomb. They’d been the first line of defense in a trap-laden tunnel and had nearly cost me an eye.
“Don’t touch those!” I snapped, jabbing a finger at the ugly-looking sculptures.
Glancing over her shoulder at me, she wrinkled her nose. “I’m not an idiot, Bowen. I know a fury statue when I see one. After the cut on my arm, the last thing I need is a bolt through the head.” Her gaze returned to the statue. “Speaking of, what size bolt does it carry? And where did you find these? They’re extremely rare.”
“What is it with you and staring down death?” I murmured, reaching over her shoulder to grip the statue at its base and place it on a higher shelf. Even if she stood on her toes, she’d be out of range of its firing trajectory.
Caged between my body and the shelves, she turned to face me. A glossy wave of her hair brushed against my jacket. Without thinking, my fingers gently trailed up her arm, ghosting past the injury I inflicted.
Her eyes flared. “Don’t collect deadly things if you don’t want people to stare at them.”
“People stare at me all the time. Why should my collection be any different?”
Her gaze dipped to the scar running along my collarbone, then it traveled the path up the side of my face, lingering near my cheekbone.
My throat tightened. “They look worse than they are,” I said, using her words.
A strange moment passed, and she stared at me in the same way she stared at the statues: knowing she shouldn’t touch them, but drawn in all the same. She inhaled a breath and lifted her hand. I caught her wrist an inch from my face and felt the heat of her palm.
“What are you doing?”
Uncertainty clouded her gaze, and I wasn’t even sure she knew. I released her wrist, letting her decide. Liana’s hand hovered in the air before she brought her fingertips to the imperfection on my jawline, tracing it lightly with her nails.
“See? You aren’t as deadly as your statues, and these aren’t so bad.”
“Don’t you dare tell me my face has character,” I grumbled, trying not to lean into her hand.
“Never that. You’d probably challenge me to a duel.”
I couldn’t help it. I cracked a smile. Which was probably the first time I’d ever smiled while someone studied my scars.
“No more duels for you today. Besides, you should get some rest. We’re heading into town tomorrow.”
