His stare did not soften. If anything, it grew hotter. Sharper. His gaze dipped briefly to the trousers she wore, dragging back up to her gaze, gooseflesh hollowing in its wake.
Their kiss lay simmering between them.
And no mere memory either, but the verysensationof their lips colliding. The pressure of his mouth, the unforgettable heat of it, the way his breath had done far more than stolen hers. Why did she have to relive this now of all times? In this den of criminals.
Hah! Violet. Not even Persephone had so willingly stepped toward the underworld.
His gaze held hers for what seemed to be a lifetime before he said, “You’re really not afraid, are you?”
“Should I be?” she asked lightly, allowing her entire bearing to blast challenge.
“A normal woman would.”
“Perhaps I am not a normal woman.”
He leaned in closer, until she could almost breathe in the very essence of him. “Then you are reckless.”
Arrogant oaf. “So if a woman does not fit neatly into your definition of normal, she is therefore reckless?”
Something in her tone must have caught his attention because he cursed.
His fingers tightened around her wrist before he seemed to realize it, then loosened slightly. “Damn it, that is not what I meant. Any woman would be wary in these circumstances.”
She smiled, couldn’t help herself. Notanywoman. “Is that so?”
A mockingly uttered French remark interrupted his response. She turned toward the brother who had sidled up to them. Had she heard that right?
“He steps on his own tongue,” Reaper translated with a grin she could only describe as wicked. “Frequently.”
Blast. This was a conundrum. Should she know French or not? She spoke the language fluently, but if Drake learned this information, his scrutiny would only sharpen. She could not afford to invite further questions from a man who already lookedat her far too closely. Whose presence glowed with a heat she could detect even now.
A misstep.
He was waiting for a misstep.
“Be gone, before I make you,” Drake snapped.
“Can’t do that,frère.” The man’s gaze dipped to where Drake held her wrist. “Are you planning to whisk her to where sunlight dares not follow?”
“I would like to know the very same thing.” She should probably yank her hand away, but an unaccountable pull kept her suspended in his hold. Worse still, she feared that if she pulled away, she might reveal just how very much she did not wish to. And why, of all moments, did her heart choose now to flutter like a blossom caught in a sudden gust?
Drake shot his brother a look so black, Violet thought the man might burst into apology on the spot.
Heavens. Were they always like this? A pinch of envy nibbled at her heart.
“Leave before I bloody the rest of your face.”
Never mind.
“Let’s not go that far,” another voice joined them. The man named Dagger. He appeared to be the sensible one of the bunch. “What, precisely, is transpiring here?”
“None of your business,” Drake snapped, his patience wearing thin, it seemed.
“Fine,” Dagger said simply. “Then I’ll attach myself to your side like a barnacle until it becomes my business.”
Reaper barked a laugh. “He means it,frère. He once shadowed Maxen for a week. Nearly drove him to murder.”
“I’d rather you tell me directly,” Dagger said.
