He watched the slow rise and fall of her breathing. The absolute absence of wariness. Most people, in his experience, protected themselves even in rest. A residual vigilance that never fully switched off. Not this carnivorous flower. She slept as she did everything else. Completely without apology.
What spell have you put on me, little flame?
And what danger had he brought upon them all?
This matter with that damn Bulldog had to be taken care of. The situation couldn’t be allowed to fester past the disaster it had already become. Into something unescapable with devastating consequences. His brothers considered him in charge since Maxen had married and focused more on his wife, but what had he done? He’d blasted failed them all. He would finish this. Today, if need be.
“Are you going to keep staring at me the whole night?” her soft, sweet voice drifted to him.
His lips twitched. “It’s well past midnight.”
“The whole morning then.” Her eyes opened and she glanced at him. “Well?”
“Yes,” Drake said, brushing an invisible strand of hair behind her ear. “Why didn’t you tell me you were... untouched?”
“Would it have mattered if you’d known?” She met his gaze without flinching, the question curious rather than defensive.
He kept his voice even. “I will never know now, will I?”
Her lips curved into a smile, her finger lifting to skim the line of his scar. He’d rather she use her tongue.
“I never thought I’d see a man like you pout,” she murmured.
He scowled, and could not stop himself from leaning into her touch. “I don’t pout.”
“You sound like you’re pouting.” Her finger fell away from his face and she propped herself up to imitate him.
His chest suddenly tightened. “And you sound wary.”
“I do?” Her smile slipped before her lips lifted again. “You must be mistaking it for fatigue. I suppose I should return to my room before your brothers wake.”
Drake arched a brow. “You’re tupping and leaving me?”
She blinked at him, her lips parting as if shocked. He probably did shock the spitfire.
Then keep me in yours.
Should he just do that? But he couldn’t keep her against her will, now could he? And she didn’t repeat those words. Instead, she offered a simple reason for his earlier question.
“I am my own woman, Drake. I make my own choices.”
And was she ever. She had proved it time and again. And he admired that about her. “You are still innocent to me.”
“Be that as it may, I am not to myself. Not anymore.”
“You don’t have to sound so proud. I feel rather used, quite honestly.”
She arched a brow, a question filling the depth of those blue eyes. “Are we lovers now or not?”
The blunt question caught him off guard. She always had a way of surprising him like this. For once, he had no readyresponse. No plan. No instinct that felt entirely right. So he reached for the only thing that came to him in the moment—a question. One he regretted even as it left his mouth. “Do you want to be lovers?”
Some of the light left her face, and she drew herself upright, clutching the sheet to her chest. “I understand.”
No, she absolutely did not.
The ground at once felt glazed and treacherous, one careless step from giving way. “It depends,” he said carefully, his gaze searching hers. “What do you believe a lover to be?”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
