Page 117 of Sorrow & Strangers

I watch him for a moment, and then I pull away. “I will train with you because my family needs me.”

His jaw tightens. “But?”

I lift my chin, watching him. “But there will be conditions.”

“Conditions?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

I nod.

“What conditions?” His voice is tight.

“No more invading my dreams.”

“Get strong enough to keep me out,” he throws back.

I don’t think so. This is a boundary I need to enforce. “No. You need to stop.”

“Then how will I know you’re strengthening your walls?”

“I’ll show you here. When we train,” I snap back.

He hisses out a breath and starts to pace. “You’re upset about last night.”

I quirk a brow. “What? Why would I possibly be upset? You just invaded my dreams, my room, my private fantasies.”

He has the nerve to smirk. “Your fantasies?”

My hands fist at my slip. “I didn’t mean . . .” I curse under my breath. “You know what I meant.”

“What did you mean?” he asks with a low chuckle, obviously enjoying how flustered I am.

“You . . . you put those thoughts in my head.”

He steps in close, but I refuse to move back. “No I didn’t,” he says, his breath warm against my cheek, and then he tugs my earlobe between his teeth.

A shiver goes through me, but I push him back. “Yes you did.”

“Liar,” he scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest again.

I snarl, my irritation growing with every throb of my core. “It doesn’t happen again. No more watching me in my house or my bedroom.” I clench my fists. “In fact, you will not enter the house or touch me without my permission.”

“Because you feel things when I touch you?” he asks, and I can feel his eyes narrow on me.

“No.” The lie is so deep and potent that it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I glare at him, having to press my thighs together to try to alleviate the ache between them. Smug amusement rolls from him, and I know he has noticed. Deciding to ignore it, I tip my chin up and ask, “Do you accept my terms?”

He tips his head and stares at me for a long moment. “For now,” he ­finally says, his tone ominous.

“For now? What the fuck does that mean?” I growl.

“Shall we?” he says, ignoring my question.

“No. Not until you agree to my terms. Not until you make an oath.”

“You want an oath?” His jaw twitches in irritation, and I knew I was right. He had no intention of staying true to his word.

“Yes, I’m not stupid.” I smile. “And I don’t trust you in the slightest.”

He narrows his eyes and gives me an annoyed huff but lowers the glamour around his hand. Blood pools in his palm as he slices through his skin, and using my rune dagger, I cut into my own hand. This is the most effective way to create a strong oath. It is nearly unbreakable. There are ways, but if you do break it, the consequences are grave.