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“Did you not just hear me?”
My eyes narrowed. I’d had enough of Thorn’s bullshit.
“You instructed me to get weapons.”
“I didn’t expect you to destroy the armoire.”
“How else would I open it?”
His eyes flared with heat, but this time it wasn’t the sexual kind. He was pissed, and I wouldn’t have blamed him if he didn’t scare the hell out of me.
“I mistakenly thoughta thiefwould know how open a valuable antique armoire without bashing it all to hell,” he snapped.
I rose from my seat and he from his standing eye-to-eye over that desk. He growled an honest-to-goodness snarl, and for a second, in those eyes, I saw the ravenous beast within that held a hunger that could never be satisfied. It should have frightened me, except I realized that at this moment, Thorn was chained to that hunger like I was chained to him by that damned mark on my back.
I backed away and held out my hands in supplication.
“We can’t work like this, at each other’s throats.”
He closed his eyes, and his elegant shoulders sagged.
“For once, you are right about something.”
“Gee, thanks,” I said with sarcasm.
He shot me another glare, and I realized the prudence of backing off. Otherwise, there would be a murder in this office tonight, either his or mine. I felt either would not work out well for the survivor.
“Hey, I have new body art.”
Thorn’s eyes glinted as he lowered his body in one graceful move onto the massive leather chair. He clasped his hands while leaning his elbows on the desktop.
“Oh? Care to show me?”
“Sure, I whip off my shirt for near-strangers all the time.”
He gave me a long stare and didn’t answer.
“Fine.”
I stood and yanked the tank top over my head, turning to show him the flaming crown on my back.
“Is this like your sigil or something?”
When he didn’t respond, I turn back to him. “Is there a problem?”
He shook his head. “That’s not my sigil, no. But I’m impressed you know at least as much as you do. The sigil is like a spell. So, if I were to mark you as a slave, for example—”
“Oh, good, there is a slave version?”
“I’m using the example because you were worried about it. If you were my slave, the crown would be in chains, to signify entrapment. You gave me permission, so the mark holds you as my servant, but not my slave.”
“I don’t remember agreeing to serve you.”
“You agreed to let me save your life. The fact is, you didn’t ask specifics—”
“As the life drained from my body.”
He scoffed. “That is not my concern.”
