Page 28 of Devil in Her Details

A shadow cast along the hallway.

Lilly stiffened.

Before she could look, a hand closed around her wrist, and she was pulled through the nearest door into an empty room. A finger pressed against her mouth, silencing the protest that formed on her lips, her gaze lifting to meet a set of dark brooding eyes. Her body erupted with gooseflesh.

So she hadn’t gone mad!

She’d been right!

Her gaze swept over his face. His mood seemed black. That gave her pause. Was he angry she’d not acknowledged him?

“If you wished to speak to me,” she said against his finger, “you could just have approached me like a normal person. No need for dramatics.” And yet, something told her this man was all about doing things the unconventional way.

“I didn’t think you would appreciate me approaching you with your friends present.” His hand fell away. “I’ve dealt with your pest.”

Lilly drew in a quick breath at that last. “You have?”

He nodded. “You shouldn’t be bothered again.”

“What did you do?” she asked even though she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. However, had she and Carlisle not tried everything to deter that man only for him still to follow her to Brighton? “I must take note of this method for future pests.”

“Trust me.” His gaze burned into hers. “You don’t want to know my method.”

Her gaze slid to the scar on his jaw. No, she supposed not. But tell that to her curiosity, which only grew! “I only ask because I’ve never met such a determined reprobate. He might return.”

“He won’t if he wants to keep all his fingers intact.”

Blazes. Yes. Let’s not ask.

But would such a threat truly be enough? Lilly had her doubts. Only time would tell, she supposed. In the meantime, should she keep Dagger Fury on her side? At her side?

As a hired hand, of course.

And for protection only, naturally.

She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, her heartbeats stumbling over each other when his eyes followed the movement. To her shock, he caught the sleeve of her jacket and drew it back a fraction, revealing the purple-and-blue imprint of fingers Calvington had left on her wrist.

Lilly flinched, pulling her hand away.

While Dagger had been careful not to touch her, the absence of his touch felt like a touch itself.

“It’s nothing,” Lilly said quickly, covering the bruise. “My skin has the unfortunate habit of bruising easily.”

His gaze hardened, but he said nothing, a tick working in his jaw.

A slow flush stole over her skin. The sensible thing to do was to leave and return to her friends. But instead, Lilly didn’t move. Couldn’t move. Her feet had grown roots before this man. He was staring at her as though he were peering into her soul and saw all the things she kept hidden. And she found she wanted to do the same. She wanted to peel back the surface of this dagger-loving man called Dagger and peer into his soul.

Entirely improper.

Entirely avoidable.

All she had to do was walk away. And yet . . .

“Dagger!” a voice growled from the hallway. “Where the devil are you, you big traitor?”

*

Dagger scowled. He wasn’t in the mood for Reaper’s ire right now. Particularly not after leaving Reaper downstairs to face Maxen’s temper alone with two blatantly disregarding words: “Ask him.” Since Reaper had set him on this course, he might as well do his part. This was merely delaying the inevitable, of course. Maxen would demand an accounting. He might even still be waiting downstairs. If there was one thing Maxen had in spades, it was patience. A trait Dagger usually also possessed in abundance. Just not at the moment. And if there was a cause for that dwindling reserve, she stood directly before him.