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Finally, he asked, “Why?”
“Does it matter? I’m tired. Let’s just go to sleep.”
Again, a long moment of silence passed. I grew uncomfortable and ended up blurting, “He wanted to cast a spell to get rid of your mark, and I…”
“You?”
“I didn’t want him to.”
His body stilled behind me, his voice rough when he said, “Why didn’t you want him to?”
On instinct, I rubbed my chest. “I don’t know. It makes no sense but I’ve become attached to it. When we were breaking through the prison wards, the mark made my magic stronger.”
“Is that the only reason?”
I flushed at his question. It wasn’t the only reason, but I wasn’t ready to admit that.
“I think so,” I whispered and felt his hand flex on my hip briefly.
He didn’t ask any more questions, which was a relief, but there was a new tension that hadn’t been there before. A sizzling tension. It was like the string between us that had been tight with mistrust slackened a little. His body seemed softer, less rigid, behind me. I knew he was still awake and it was too awkward to go asleep after the conversation we just had, so I said, “You must be relieved about your magic. Was it always so potent?”
“No, it took a long time for me to come into my powers. If it happened earlier Sven and I wouldn’t have spent a century in the mine. Why do you ask?”
I huffed a sigh. “I guess I’ve just been thinking about my own powers. I’m hoping I’m a late bloomer like you.”
“I already told you I suspect you will be.”
“Why though?”
“Remember when I told you in the prison that I can sense what a person’s strength is? Well, yours is still hidden. I can sense it’s there, but it hasn’t yet fully revealed itself.”
“Is that unusual?”
“Somewhat, but not entirely. Everyone advances at a different pace.”
I fell into a thoughtful silence, not realising I’d allowed myself to lean further back into Vas so that my head was resting somewhere in the region of his collarbone.
“Do you still hate me, Vas?”
He stiffened a moment, his fingers curling at my hip. “I never said I hated you.”
“What…what do you feel about me then?” I turned my head to glance up at him. He stared down. His eyes looked almost grey in the dark. His fingers uncurled, his palm spreading out on my hip. “You don’t want to know, Darya.”
I turned around fully, meeting his gaze directly as I tilted my head. “If you don’t hate me then what could possibly be worse?”
He averted his eyes. “Just let it drop.”
I shifted closer, my breasts pressing to his arm. “Why? Are you afraid you might hurt my feelings?”
I saw his jaw flicker, and there was something in his stiffness that made me want to push.
He arched an eyebrow. “You lied to me. Why would I care about your feelings?”
“Because,” I said, trailing my finger along the hollow of his throat. “I think you might be a better man than you want everyone to believe.”
He caught my finger in his grip. “I told you not to do that.”
“What?”
“Don’t presume to know me. Don’t try to make me into some person I’m not in your head.” He let go of my finger and I placed my hand on his sternum. What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I stop touching him? A shudder seemed to travel through him.
“That’s not what I’m doing,” I whispered.
“You’re playing with fire. Keep going. See what happens.”
My lips curved. “You know what? I think I will.” My hand smoothed across the sweaty fabric of his thin shirt and I could feel his heart racing. There was something about knowing I made him nervous that felt powerful. I was high on it.
He glowered when my hand went a few inches lower, stopping just above his ribcage. “Whatever you feel about me,” I said, gauging his reaction. “You like it when I touch you.”
“Liking it when a beautiful woman touches me doesn’t mean I trust her.”
My hand stilled, a flush marking my cheeks when he called me beautiful. Suddenly, the power shifted and he brought his hand up to caress my cheek. “You like to be praised. Interesting.” He paused, then went on huskily, “If you need me to whisper compliments in your ear, Darya, I’m happy to. I’m happy to do other things to you, too, if that’s what you want.” Another pause. “But I still won’t trust you.”
I was breathing faster, looking away because he was making me feel too hot. Images flashed in my mind but I tried to blank them out. Why had I started this? It was my own fault he’d gained the upper hand.
“Lost your voice?”
I lifted my eyes. “When I kill Red Armand for you, will you trust me then?”
His expression was smouldering. “If you kill Red Armand I’ll sing your fucking praises all night long.”
