Page 38 of Accomplice to the Villain

He pulled at his collar, discomfited by her gratitude, hating himself for allowing it to make him feel weightless when he should’ve felt fearful of corrupting her further. Instead, he felt so light his bloody head was going to knock against the ceiling. “You had a right to be there. You’re my apprentice, after all, and he had wronged you.”And he seems to continue to do so.“Now, come.”

“Come where?” Sage asked, tripping to keep up. “Your lack of direction is giving me whiplash.”

Trystan quirked a grin at her.

“To find Rennedawn’s storybook.”

Chapter 19

Evie

The back courtyard was quiet, save for the occasional whimper coming from the grate that led down to the male guvre’s enclosure. Evie tried not to fixate on it or the way it caused a twisting in her gut as she and The Villain exited the manor into the night. The stars were shining, with only the small hint of a breeze, and the smell of burning logs drifted from the manor’s many chimneys. Torches lit outside saved them from the shadows.

The stained glass pieces clanged in Evie’s skirt pocket. She took the pouch out as she slowly came to her knees, laying them gently before her.

A loud, nasal snore caused her to drop one, nearly slicing her hand when she dove to catch it. “Aw. Fluffy is sick.” The dragon slept on his back under one of the awnings, all four of his purple feet stuck up in the air. He reminded Evie of a stray cat in her village, except bigger…and scalier.

The Villain harrumphed, placing the pieces he’d been carrying beside hers. “He always does that.”

Evie frowned. “Perhaps we should send for a veterinarian.”

“I’ll consult Blade in the morning,” her boss offered, scratching at the stubble he clearly hadn’t had time to groom. “Let’s just attempt to put this back together without waking him up.”

Evie began to move the pieces around, remembering how terrible she was at puzzles, how the pieces always looked the same. She didn’t know why she’d thought it would be different merely because she’d spent nearly all her days for half a year staring at it.

“Promise me when we’re done out here we can return it to the kitchen exactly as it was,” Evie said as she gently pushed the pieces around on the stone pavement.

Earlier, her boss had been quiet as he dismantled her favorite window piece by piece. The entire process had taken him no more than fifteen minutes, and Evie had only protested for the first ten. “I told you I would. I beg you to stop asking.”

“Well, if you’re begging.” She stuck her tongue out at the back of his head, and he must have sensed it because he turned so fast she fell back on her heels, her hand falling to the ground to prop her up.

His gaze burned, his black eyes fathomless and unreadable as he tossed a basket he’d hooked under his arm toward her. “Here. Eat.”

Evie stared at it, then lifted the wicker flap and pulled out a large loaf of bread, cheeses, a fig spread, and various fruits piled atop a folded checkered blanket. “Sir…is this a picnic?”

He stopped the puzzle to stare blankly at her. “Absolutely not.”

“Then what is it?”

He helped her lay out the blanket along with the rest of the food. “It’s dinner. Outside dinner.”

“On a picnic blanket?” Evie asked, looking pointedly down at it, giggling when she found a white rose buried at the bottom of the basket. She lifted a brow, letting the stem of the flower play between her fingers. “And this is?”

He grabbed her wrist—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to keep her from moving it. “Less talking. More puzzling,” he said, giving her a look that made her toes curl in her shoes. It was an unspoken message that said she was being obstinate and if she continued, something bad would happen. But what? She had no clue, but for some reason she wanted to push every one of his buttons until she found out.

Don’t be sadistic, Evie!

Unless it’s for a very good reason!

Was this a very good reason?

He turned to fully face her, and a sliver of skin became visible in the loose V of his black shirt.

Good enough.

The boss was staring at her expectantly. Oh dear, he’d said something just now. She’d registered the words coming from outside her head, but for some reason her brain refused to process them while she ventured onto one of her mind’s unwanted tangents.

“Well?” Trystan said, gesturing for her to answer. It was simply unfair that even disheveled with an overgrowth of stubble at his chin, he still managed to be devastatingly handsome, his skin gleaming in the moonlight. He looked warm and inviting, like a fuzzy blanket with murderous tendencies.