Page 134 of The Silversmith

And if I didn’t pursue her… violent flames of fury erupted within me at the thought of another man. Because I knew men—I thought like the worst of them—and they would pursue her, lurch after her like starving sharks to fresh, bloody meat in the water.

I looked down at myself, sweaty and covered in soot. I immediately wished I had stopped working an hour earlier like I originally planned and taken a bath. Impressing a woman was something I’d never given a shit about. The ones I fucked were pretty, but they didn’t require much wooing.

“What’s your name?” she asked, a hopeful look on her stunning, heart-shaped face.

“Smyth,” I replied, realizing I’d tell her anything she asked. She might as well have me in a trance. “Gavin Smyth.”

“Gavin Smyth.” She ran her index finger along the edge of the table I used to shape and carve wood. My eyes locked on that finger and I immediately wished I was that table. The gentle, curious look in her eyes proved she was too innocent to put any sexual intent behind her gestures. But she rounded her mouth and blew the sawdust off her fingertip and into the air. I thought of all the places I wanted those blushing lips…

Well, fuck me.

“Gavin Smyth, I need you to make me a weapon,” she blurted out. I had to reprocess the words a few times. All I had registered was her full lips in a circular shape and the words I need you coming out of her mouth.

“What kind of weapon?” I demanded a little too harshly, startling us both.

She crossed her arms and rubbed nervously at her elbow. “Something… sharp.”

I cleared my throat and shifted my stance to better hide the one sharp thing I already had for her. I had a feeling that wasn’t what she had in mind.

“Why do you need a weapon?”

Did she not have someone to protect her? Husband? Suitor? Lover?

And could I kill them to make room for myself?

I shuddered. What she stirred in my bones was something foreign, animalistic, and desperate. I wanted to throw my body over her, become her human shield, and then tear her clothes off, free the goddess underneath, and claim her for myself.

She sighed and shook her head. “That doesn’t matter. I need you to make me a weapon, and I need you to show me how to use it.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You do know you can buy yourself any type of blade at more than one place here in this city, don’t you? Besides, I’m a blacksmith, not a swordsman.” I pushed back, not because I wasn’t going to do it for her. I was. I resisted in the hopes that she would reveal more information about herself. Give me a reason to tell her to run.

I wasn’t sure there was a reason strong enough to make me.

“It’s not so much the dagger itself, it’s…” She bit her lip, and tense heat barreled into my cock. “I saw you outside that pub this afternoon, fighting. The other man didn’t stand a chance. You know what you’re doing.”

True. I had spent a good portion of my days roughing people up when they pissed me off. But that man owed me money, and I took what was owed to me. Still, I winced, realizing she had seen that. I hadn’t exactly been merciful. He would be nursing his ribs and jaw back to health for weeks.

“Is your family nearby?” she asked, her fair skin growing more pale. “I—I should have asked that first.” Her green-gold eyes darted nervously around. “I don’t want to bother you if—”

“No family,” I rushed out.

Relief and sadness warred in her beautiful face.

And at the sight of her sadness, an unfamiliar rage simmered in my stomach. Fuck that sadness. Damn it to hell. I never wanted to see it again.

“Listen, I’m not supposed to be here. This is… delicate.” She fidgeted with her thumbs. “I’m asking for help, and I don’t really have anyone else to ask.”

“Don’t ask anyone else. I’ll help you,” I uttered a little too urgently. I cleared my throat again and forced my posture to relax. This dark need to possess her—I didn’t know where it came from, but I couldn’t show it, not if I wanted a sliver of a chance with her. “But where are you supposed to be?”

She shook her head. “My family doesn’t like me going anywhere alone.”

I studied the curve of her torso and waist, how the cloak hinted at the delicious shape of her breasts and ass. I could see why anyone who cared about her wouldn’t want her going anywhere alone. I hardly knew her, and I didn’t want her going anywhere alone ever again.

“How old are you?” I asked, flinching as soon as the words left my mouth. Sounding exactly like the predatory asshole I was.

“Sixteen.” She swallowed hard, her beautiful neck pulsing. “And a half.”

Ah, fuck. I knew it.