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I gulp. The idea of him being on top has me dizzy—fuckingwolf magic. “So I’m your prisoner?”
“For now,” he says. “You did come here with a rifle and a knife. I can’t just let you go.”
“Do you sleep with all your prisoners?”
He stiffens. At first, I think I’ve caught him at a disadvantage, but he just stands up straighter, staring down at me. “What’s your name?”
Jesus. He doesn’t even know my name? Of course he doesn’t. Should I tell him?
“What. Is. Your. Name?” he says again, firmer this time.
“Tilda,” I blurt out. “Matilda Bingham.”
I don’t know why I say it; it seems to just tumble out, like he has me hypnotized.
“Okay, Matilda Bingham,” he says. “Why did you come here last night?”
I don’t have an excuse; I clearly came here with a hit squad.
“I…” I pause, swallowing hard. Is he going to kill me when he finds out I’m here to killhim?
Would that really be so much worse than being captive in a lycan den?
“I’m really thirsty,” I say quietly. “Can you get me some water?”
His expression softens at my show of vulnerability and I file that away in my toolkit; maybe I’ll be able to use that against him eventually. He turns around and reaches for a silver pitcher of water and a tin cup on the side table, the muscles in his back flexing. I stand slowly and silently, glancing around for any kind of makeshift weapon I could use.
Would it be stupid to attack him here, when I have no idea exactly where I am in the den? Absolutely.
Am I a little stupid?Alsoyes.
I mean, it’s how I ended up here.
I’m just about to lunge for the oil lamp when a warning growl rumbles in his chest, his dark eyes flicking over his shoulder to look at me. “I wouldn’t recommend doing that,” he says. “Your position here is…tenuous. In fact, I’m the only thing keeping the others from executing you.”
I frown as he turns back toward me, offering the cup of water. “Why?”
“Why do they want to execute you?”
“Yeah, that’s part of it.” I take a sip of the water. “Are you…” I pause. “You already know why I came here, don’t you?”
He bites his lip with one of those sharp canines. The way it dents his soft, tan mouth makes me want to sink my own teeth into him. Didn’t realize I was this horny until now. “I recognized the insignia tattooed on your shoulder,” he says. “Everyone who saw me bring you in did. Needless to say, we don’t much care for crusaders in the rebellion.”
I sigh, kicking myself once again for getting that damn tattoo all those years ago. The templar cross in front of wings has given me more trouble than it was worth, especially since it was the result of a drunken night with a bunch of other kids excited about a cause. “I haven’t been a crusader in a long time,” I say.
“The fact that you showed up at our den with an armed cohort of other crusaders indicates otherwise,” he says. There’s a certain menace in his voice that wasn’t there before—maybe because of the threat to his people. I get that; I would be fucking pissed if anyone threatened Homestead. “Unless you’re a bounty hunter.”
He’s definitely onto me. I lick my lips and stare down at the floor, putting my hands on my hips. “So you know the Heavenly Host has a price on your head.”
“Of course they do,” he says, cracking another smile. “I was instrumental in taking Austin. They don’t like that.”
“And neither do I,” I say. Another faux pas; he makes it clear that he doesn’t like that kind of talk with a grimace. “But—that’s beside the point. I don’t think there’s any point in keeping my reasons for coming here secret.”
He raises his brows. “I appreciate your honesty.”
“And what about you?” I ask. “I watched you kill my friends, so why did you save my life? Is it driven by some kind of weird chivalry, or are you planning on making me your little wolfy wife, because I—”
“It’s because I’m a man of God,” he interrupts.
