Laughter burst from Violet. An evil look? Good! She would need a bit of wickedness to deal with her opponent.
Drake Fury would not be the only one ready.
*
The punishment wouldcome later.
Damned if the woman wasn’t right. His whole body was a map of complaints. It ached all damn over. The parts that didn’t physically ache were itchy, restless, and burning. His mouth still felt bruised from her kiss. His hands remembered the shape of her arse with humiliating clarity, and his tongue throbbed where she’d bitten him. Though that might be phantom pain.
Christ.
He’d thought he understood danger. He lived in it every day. Commanded its very essence. But Violet Sharpe had rewritten the definition entirely. She simply didn’t react like any normal,innocent, woman would. And she was no harpy. The woman was fire. A flaming cauldron of defiance.
He shouldn’t damn well be thinking this way, but the smell of her skin, soft like early morning rain, clung stubbornly to him since he’d left her alone in the courtyard.
Damn it.
She was going to be a problem.
A spectacular problem.
And he wasn’t entirely certain he didn’t want this complication to keep knocking on his door. And it wouldn’t stop him from collecting her in an hour. This time not to show her a dungeon or the like, but exactly what she wished to attend the night she walked into his trap.
A fight.
Let’s see her face then.
Just what was the little spitfire up to?
His gaze shifted to Knight behind the bar, immersed in the newspaper. Bloody traitor. He hadn’t said a word to the man since he left him in the dungeon and sent Maxen to retrieve him four damn hours later. The only reason why Drake had kept his fists to himself was because Knight hadn’t breathed a word about how he’d come to be locked in his own dungeon.
Dagger pushed open the door of the tavern and stepped in, spotted him, and strode over, taking the chair across from him. “Where are the others?”
Drake shrugged. “You have news?”
His brother shook his head. “Nothing. I’m concerned.”
Drake sighed. Normally, no news could usually be considered good news. But when it came to an enemy,theirenemy, no news was dangerous news. “I don’t like this silence. Something is brewing in the dark.”
Dagger nodded. “Everything is too peaceful.”
Noteverything, everything.
As if reading his thoughts, his brother studied him for a moment before saying. “Maxen said to keep an eye on you.”
Drake cursed. Bloody Maxen. “Aren’t I the one in charge when he is off playing house?”
“Even he had you.”
Drake arched a brow, cocking his head. “So now you’re me?”
Dagger shrugged. “I’m whoever you need me to be while the boys play.”
“You mean Reaper and Deveraux?” Those two brothers of theirs were the bane of his existence. One was reckless, the other was devil-may-care. Opposite sides of the same bloody coin. He should hire a damn wet nurse for each of them. That would free him up to do more important things. Like dealing with a certain spitfire...
“Ten pounds says those two brawl before the week is out.”
Drake, who once again started to chew on thoughts he had no business chewing, lifted a brow. “Make it twenty, and I’ll take the wager.”
