“What?”
He smirked, so subtle that only the slight twitch of his scar gave him away. “Nothing at all. Whiskey?”
He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder and I peered around him to see two small tumblers and a large bottle he’d obviously swiped from my bar. I raised a brow at the alcohol.
“Should I be drinking whiskey?”
“Turns out the tea wasn’t poisoned. Thought you could probably use a stiff drink.” He paused and gave me a look that turned my insides molten. “Unless you’d rather go back to bed.”
If he heard my very audible swallow, he had the grace to ignore it. I crossed the short distance to the vanity, and he stood as I drew even with him, bringing us much closer than I’d anticipated, his chest level with my face. Somehow, I held both my ground and his eye.
“I’m not tired,” I said.
“Me neither.”
He took a swift step to the side and gestured for me to take the seat, then turned to pour us both a generous measure of whiskey.
“So we’re just going to drink until dawn? And then what, I’m free?”
He snorted. “You were never captive to begin with. This is about your safety, remember?”
When I didn’t answer, he peered sideways, scrutinising me from the corner of his eye as he replaced the cork in the bottle. He handed me a tumbler, a small smirk hiding in the dark bristle of his beard.
“We could talk.”
I raised a brow, and he laughed that big laugh of his, athunderclap rolling down a vast mountain valley. Gods, that laugh. My magic roused at the sound, dancing low in my belly to the deep, rumbling rhythm of it like a song it knew by heart. I took a long gulp, hoping to douse some of that overeager Flame before it got out of hand. Again.
“Come now, Rosie,” he teased. “Don’t you want to get to know me better?”
He spread his arms wide, as though inviting me to assess him.
I took another sip. “I know you plenty.”
He pressed his lips together and swiped the other tumbler from the vanity, dropping to the corner of my bed. The space was small enough that our knees still brushed as he settled himself and caught my eye.
“Well, I want to know you.”
My chest went hot and tight, then loose with an explosion of fluttering, a fiery cloud of butterflies. My shaking breath gave me away, but I tilted my glass at him as steadily as I could. “Ask away, then.”
“A question for a question?”
I nodded.
“Nothing’s off limits,” he added.
I swayed my head in awe’ll seesort of gesture, but he was already leaning forward, drink balanced on one knee. His grin stretched his scar taut, eyes dancing with mischief. I squirmed inwardly, already regretting submitting to this game.
“Favourite colour?”
I laughed, surprised. “Really?”
“Nothing’s off limits,” he said seriously.
I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling as I answered; “Purple. Like lavender.”
“Purple.” He echoed my answer softly, as though I’d imparted some great wisdom.
“Yours?”
