Immediately, I’m relieved that Ambrose and Yaretta weren’t anything serious. However, after the relief hits, so does the revulsion at his words.He was already done with her.Exactly how many times has he done this sort of thing if he can speak so callously about it? About her. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m not her number one fan, but she’s still a human being.
And I’m not the only one who didn’t take kindly to his words. The Noctryns shift among themselves, some grabbing the hilt of their daggers or swords, others dropping their helmets and stepping toward Ambrose. I have no doubt it’s not because they are offended on Yaretta’s behalf. They’re moving forward out of respect for their leader.
Apparently, the closest person in the world to me has a death wish.
Could he take on a few of them by himself? Absolutely.
All eight of them? We’re both dead.
I can feel the tension in the air.
It feels tangible enough that you could reach out and grab it.
The larger-than-life major reaches for his helmet. His large, gloved hands grip the sides and pull it off.
My eyes widen as they roam over his features.
I was not ready. I don’t think there’s a way to even be prepared.
His face is nothing less than masculine perfection.
The kind of perfection that demands your complete and whole attention.
A sharp jawline, strong nose, and full lips. His face is perfectly symmetrical. Black hair that’s short on the sides and a little longer on top, and slightly messed up from his helmet.
Soldiers have different kinds of weapons in their arsenal that they wear throughout their life to protect themselves—some being obvious and others catching you by surprise. Kingston’scaught me by surprise. He is covered in weapons, but his face is the main one.
Where Ambrose is warmth, safety, and everything beautiful in a man, Kingston is cold, diabolical, and unapproachable. Both stunning but in completely different ways.
He sucks all the oxygen out of the room, and I wouldn’t be surprised if darkness started seeping from his pores. Gorgeous but in a “look don’t touch” kind of way.
Beautiful.
Dangerous.
Very pissed off.
He steps closer to Ambrose, who doesn’t back down. It’s like watching two alpha wolves circle each other, looking for weaknesses. Where to strike to cause the most damage.
“I hide behind nothing, Ballard. Something you know better than most,” he says, his eyes cutting to me as I’ve stepped unknowingly closer to Ambrose during the altercation.
His eyes are unique. Warm brown, the color of dark honey, but rimmed with black. He’s staring at me derisively in a way that feels like it’s licking its way up my spine, tasting me and finding me wholly unsatisfying.
It’s not at all comfortable.
“Didn’t your mother ever teach you it was rude to stare?” I ask, forcing myself to hold his gaze.
I swear his lip twitches, but it’s gone so fast I could have imagined it.
“Didn’t your mother teach you the same?” he answers back without missing a beat.
I wasn’t as hidden as I thought while watching them.
Well, that’s slightly embarrassing.
“Leave her out of this. She isn’t one of your pawns to be used and discarded,” Ambrose declares, moving to stand in front of me, blocking me completely from Kingston’s view.
That’s rich coming from him.
