Page 15 of Wicked (A Wicked Trilogy 1)

ot."

My fingers tightened on the stake. Okay. So Merida was a badass, and I guessed that was better than saying I reminded him of Belle, the Stockholm victim, and now I was oddly flattered. "This conversation has taken a weird turn."

"Yeah," he drawled lazily, and then moved his arms. I tensed, but he didn't move to grab me. He lifted his head and pressed the vulnerable section of his neck against the stake, carefully folding his arms behind his head. "It has."

Annoyed at his lack of fear and concern, I scowled at him. "Comfy?"

His grin spread, turning downright wicked. "Very."

"Don't call me Merida anymore." Using my other hand, I pressed down on the center of his chest, then kind of wished I hadn't. Good Lord that was one hard chest. Did he have pecs? He totally had pecs. My gaze darted to his right arm, to the extraordinary tattoo for a brief second before I met his stare.

Ren appeared to consider my order. "Since you asked nicely, I won't do it again, but you can call me whatever you want."

"Are you hitting on me?" Shocked, I shook my head. "Are you for real?"

"My momma probably thinks I'm real."

I ignored that. "While I have a stake at your throat?"

"You're also sitting on me, and sweetness, if you slide about an inch or so down, things are going to get real awkward."

Holy shit.

"Or fun," he added, and his lips did that slow curl again, like he savored the whole process of smiling. "I told you I found that move you made to be fucking hot. But I don't think you're going to be down for that."

That unsettled feeling returned, and I didn't like it, didn't even know what to do with it, so I dismissed it and his comment. Needing to pull this conversation back to what was important, I focused. "Why are you here, Ren?"

"I told you. I needed to talk to you, and I didn't really want to wait." He wet his lower lip, and that action, for a second, snagged my attention. "I probably should've. I can see you didn't like my impromptu visit, but I'm going to be a good boy and just lay here."

Based on the way his green eyes glimmered, I doubted he knew how to be a good boy.

"I know you're pissed at me," he added, and I frowned at him. "Not just over this, but because of tonight."

I curled the fingers of my free hand around the collar of his black shirt. Pissed wasn't an accurate description of how I felt. "I know what I saw Wednesday night."

"I haven't said you didn't."

"You were all chatty Thursday night, but you didn't say anything to David. You made me look like a fool."

"I also didn't make you look like anything," he replied. "However, I do remember clearly telling you that David wouldn't think there was an ancient here."

"You did absolutely nothing to back me up last night."

He tilted his head to the side, completely unfazed by the dagger I had at his throat. "Why would I?"

Whoa. Startled by his blunt honesty, my grip on his shirt loosened. "Wow." That was all I could say. "You are something else."

He blinked those damn lashes, surprised, and finally that cocky smile faded. "You don't understand."

"Of course not. It's okay that almost the entire Order thinks I overreacted or made it up. Worse yet, they probably think I'm losing my mind or something," I said, and no sooner had those words left my mouth when the truth of my expectations smacked me upside the head.

I knew exactly why I expected Ren to have my back earlier tonight. Because Shaun would have. No matter what craziness I'd get myself involved in, he had my back. Thinking that Ren would, because of Shaun, was the height of ridiculousness. I'd known Shaun for almost all my life and Ren only a handful of hours. I just didn't understand why I thought a stranger would be like Shaun, but I did recognize that was a huge flaw inside me.

"Whatever," I finally said. "It's not your responsibility to step in. I lost my cool with Trent and ran my mouth. That's my fault."

"But you said Trent already knew," he challenged. "Don't you find that strange?"

I shook my head. "No. I think Harris has an even bigger mouth than Trent and me combined."

Ren didn't respond to that.

A moment passed. "Wait. How do you know that Trent knew?"

His gaze met and held mine. "You said something about it last night after I stopped you from getting yourself killed."

Had I said something about Trent? Searching through my memories, I couldn't really recall if I had. Wary, I stared down at him. "Why would I trust you?"

"You don't have a reason to trust me, Ivy. But you know what? I never asked you to," he said, repeating the same words he said to me last night.

Then he moved.

Snatching my wrist, he pulled the hand holding the stake away from his throat and flipped me on my back before I could take another breath. He tossed the stake on the bed beside me, and then moved away, stopping in front of my dresser.

I popped up, swiping the stake off the bed. Breathing heavily, I moved so that his back was to the door just in case Tink tried another rescue.

Ren opened his mouth, but his gaze dropped and he snapped his jaw shut. I might have been experiencing an epic dry spell when it came to fun times with guys, but I wasn't blind. Those bright, forest green eyes were checking me out in a slow, appraising way. It was then that I realized I was in my sleep clothes. Both the shorts and the tank top were thin, especially the top. I didn't have to look down to know he was noticing that a certain area of my body thought the room was chilly.

Immediately, I wanted to cross my arms over my chest, but I refused to show him that I was at all bothered by his blatant stare. Warmth crawled across my face. My arms practically shook with the control required to keep them away from my breasts.

"See something you like?" I asked.

"Oh yeah." His voice had deepened in a way that sent a tight shiver over my skin. "I bet your boyfriend is one happy man."

"My boyfriend is dead," I snapped before I could stop myself.

Ren's eyes met mine. For a moment he didn't speak, and I felt my cheeks burn even hotter. "I'm truly sorry to hear that."

I pressed my lips together.

"Was he a part of the Order?" he asked quietly.

For some reason, I found myself nodding.

His lips parted slowly. "Was it recent?"

I shook my head. I didn't even know why I was nonverbally answering his questions. Val was the only person I really talked to about Shaun. My tongue started moving. "It was three years ago."

Something flickered across his face, and before I could figure out what it was, it was gone. "You're twenty-one, right?"

"You really took more than a peek at my file."

He ignored that. "You turn twenty-two in December if I remember correctly."

I lowered the stake a fraction of an inch. "Wow. Okay. How old are you?"

"Twenty-four. My birthday just passed, but I accept late gifts." He flashed a quick grin that didn't reach his eyes. "He was your first love then."

Drawing back like I'd been kicked in the chest, I blinked. What he said wasn't a question but a statement, and I wondered if I had an announcement of such information written across my forehead . . . or my breasts.

A new wave of anger rushed through me. "That's none of your business, and I also doubt that it's relevant to any reason why you're here."

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