I had given myself the job of labeling bottles.
No one had asked me to do it. I just saw the stacks of unlabeled bottles and decided that was my purpose in life now. Labels. Bottles. Nice, simple work.
Peel, press, smooth. Peel, press, smooth. Again and again until my fingers ached.
It should have been impossible to think about Kazan while doing something so boring.
Ha.
My hands were busy, but the rest of me was a disaster. Every time the door opened, I froze for half a second before I could stop myself. If the steps were too light, I relaxed. If they were heavy, my stupid heart jumped right into my throat.
And if it was Kazan?
Then I pretended I hadn't noticed him.
I was very bad at pretending.
The man was seven feet tall and had horns. There was no casual way to be unaware of him. And that was before my body decided to become a traitor. I knew when he was nearby. My skin warmed and my stomach fluttered. My fingers got clumsy.
I creased another label.
"Great," I muttered, peeling it off and throwing it aside.
I had spent years learning not to want things. Wanting gave people something to grab. James had taught me that without ever saying the words. Every preference became a debate. My opinions became proof that I was difficult. Everynobecame something he could wear down if he stayed calm enough.
And he had always stayed calm.
That was the worst part.
James never had to shout to make me feel small. He just looked at me like I was being unreasonable. Like I was a problem he had already solved, and I was rude for not agreeing. Where was I going? Who was I talking to? Did I really think that dress was appropriate? Did I want people to get the wrong idea?
Questions. Always questions.
But they weren't really questions.
Kazan didn't do that.
Kazan looked like the monster from a bedtime story someone told naughty children. Huge body. Maroon skin. Scars everywhere. Horns that could probably punch holes through metal. Gold eyes that should have scared me more than they did.
And he was gentle.
That made no sense.
He built steps so I could get into bed and went still if I flinched. He didn't crowd me when I needed space, even though he'd had me pinned against a tree with my whole body screaming yes, please, more, and he'd been the one to pull away.
The monster treated me like I was precious.
The polished man in the expensive suit had treated me like something he'd bought.
I didn't know what to do with that.
My heart certainly didn't know. My heart had thought James was charming once. My heart had listened when he said he loved me.
My heart had been an idiot.
So no, I wasn't trusting my heart.
Kazan had a past. A violent one. Everyone on the farm spoke around it, but they didn't need to say much. He had fought in arenas. He had killed. Maybe he had enjoyed it once. Maybe he hadn't. I didn't know.
