Page 39 of Secrets of the Six

"I call bullshit."

"Bullshit meaning you don't believe Carmen suffered?"

I shake my head, "Bullshit on your methods."

"What do you want from me, Ines?" He's within arm's reach, staring down on me. "All I can say is you earned my trust today – "

"And whatever thread of trust you might have had with me is dead," I interrupt with a growl.

"If we are to be partners, you will have to learn to trust me."

"Funny," I scoff. "I could have said the same about you."

A silence stretches between us. Not uncomfortable but certainly not ideal. He rakes a hand through his hair and sighs, borderline defeated. "We had to be sure you were on our side. You tried sneaking off once before. How was I supposed to know you weren't going to sell us out or report us to the Soberano?"

"In all the time we have known each other, however brief it has been, have I once deceived you?" I say softly, the fight in me dwindling and giving way to exhaustion. When his only response is looking at me like a beggar in search for bread, I chuckle and throw my head back to stare at the ceiling. "Ah, for once you have nothing to say! A blessed night indeed. Now, if you don't mind, I've had the worst day of my life and if I don't have some time to myself I will, in fact, smite you where you stand."

He reaches for me, but I escape his grasp. "Vibora – "

"Don't touch me!"

He retreats a step. "Ines –"

"You know what your problem is, Remus? Not the whole distrust issue, that's a monster all its own. Your problem is you expect me to be grateful for your crumbs. You torture me, physically and mentally, and spout some you-earned-my-trust bullshit and expect me to forgive and forget. Go fuck yourself."

Remus skirts in front of me, hindering my escape to the bathroom. "If you were in my position, what would you have done? Hm? My entire life has been dedicated to our cause, our rebellion."

"And if I'm actually captured by the Soberano's men? Then what? Will you risk everything to save me since I've now earned your trust?"

A fury rages in his eyes and his shoulders tense. "You better hope and pray the Soberano's men never take you alive. What I did to you will feel like a lover's kiss compared to what Murrieta is capable of. If you are caught by our enemies, there will be nothing I can do to save you, you know that right?"

"It's a good thing I don't need saving." I shove my shoulder against him and brush past, once again heading toward the bathroom to bathe, but stop in the threshold. "Show me your tattoos."

"What?" He swivels to face me, eyes wide.

"I said, show me your tattoos."

Recovering from the dramatic change in subject, he smirks and teases, "Are you asking me to strip?"

"If you want me to trust you, you'll have to start being honest with me." I lean against the doorframe, arms folded over my chest. "No more hollow words. No more bullshit. Just the raw, ugly truth."

Remus eyes me head-to-toe, trying but failing to find whatever he's looking for. "How do I know you won't stab or shoot me?"

I shrug and bare my teeth, a fox waiting to pounce. "I suppose you're just going to have to trust me."

He opens his mouth but whatever rebuttal was on the tip of his tongue, he swallows. Without further argument, he backpedals to the center of my bedroom. I won't lie, the thought of shooting him in the leg as payback for tonight crosses my mind, but the moment he slowly starts to unbutton the cuffs of his dress shirt, my belly heats. I'm not sure where his coat disappeared to, but I don't really care right now.

"Draw the curtains."

"Why?"

"A lady like Elena Lozano would never have a man in her room, especially one undressing. So, unless you'd like the staff to talk -"

I wave him off, shooing the unwanted flutters in my stomach, as I march over to my drapes and draw them, engulfing us in darkness. Before I can complain about the darkness defeating the purpose of seeing his tattoos, he scratches a match against a match box and starts lighting candles placed around my room.

I'm not sure what to do with myself so I settle on my mattress and watch as he moves from his loosened cuffs to the buttons down the center of his chest. He starts with the first one, and two, three, four, five buttons later, his chest is exposed. His bronze skin has a smattering of hair that dips below the waistband of his trousers. The muscular planes of his chest and abs have my mouth watering.

With no sense of urgency, Remus tears his shirt off as he walks toward me. Bare chested, he lays his shirt next to me before silently turning his back to me. The tattoo is much larger than I anticipated, stretching from shoulder-to-shoulder and dipping down to his mid-back. Black feathered wings, permanently etched in flesh with magical ink.