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She shivered.
“Are you still cold?” he asked.
She pulled the sweater tighter around her. “No. I’m comfortable.” Though that wasn’t exactly true.
She noticed the way his throat moved as he turned away, the way his shirt stretched across his shoulders as he replaced the milk in the icebox. She looked away and took another sip of her tea.
“When do you think Nix will return?” she asked.
He leaned against the counter; his hands pressed behind him to frame his hips. “After he makes sure you’re safe. Your family is safe.” His jaw tensed, working underneath his skin, but she couldn’t decipher his tension. “It could be in the next thirty seconds, thirty minutes, or thirty days.” Then he turned and reached into a cupboard. “Nix has always been unpredictable.”
Brinna followed the line of his shirt where it was tucked into the trousers that curved around his form. She hated that she noticed that her body tightened as if anticipating action, so she looked down at her tea. “That’s inconvenient.”
Silence descended between them once more. She disliked the awkwardness of it, though what was to be done? It was clear she was an interloper, and even if he was kind and hospitable enough to offer her this place to stay, he didn’t want her here. By his own admission.
But then why offer a place for her family,she wondered.
Self-consciousness descended on her like a storm cloud, and it made her annoyed and tetchy, which was never a good idea. It made her do stupid things to overcompensate for her insecurities. Things like chatter, and work to make someone happy, which is what she found herself wanting to do with Lucian.
“The darkling–” she started.
“Nix should–” Lucian said at the same time.
They both stopped speaking. Her eyes met Lucian’s before she glanced back at the cup of tea in her hands.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Please.”
“Are darklings common?” she asked.
“Truthfully, other than knowing about them, I don’t have much experience.”
“And Nix?”
His eyebrow rose like the arch of a question mark.
“As the god of night and darkness?”
“He’s familiar—like me—but darkness isn’t synonymous with dark beings.”
“Point taken.” She took a sip. “I supposed a dark creature could be just as likely to walk in the light.”
“Unfortunately.”
Silence descended once again.
She snuck a glance at him as he sipped his tea, following the curve of his jaw with her eyes and noted the stubble starting to shadow the skin there. She tracked the way his throat worked as he swallowed his sip, then let her gaze dip to the hollow at his throat. Then, because she couldn’t help herself, she looked at his mouth, the teacup gone.
He smirked.
Her eyes jumped to his.
He tilted his head, which was both inquiring, arrogant, and Brinna ruffled with both embarrassment and annoyance.
“Thinking about your fantasy?” he teased.
“No.” She studied the interior of her teacup.
“A shame,” he said and chuckled.
