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I laughed. “Yes, well, we clearly weren’t equipped to deal with the likes of you.”
His gaze skirted away. I’d hurt him… Something I’d said, probably. A painful memory, a triggering phrase. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop. I don’t want your pity.” He huffed and folded his arms. “I would like my clothes though. Unless you plan to tie me to this bed and take advantage of the opportunity?” One of his dark eyebrows arched. He joked, but I knew there was too much truth in his words now.
I collected some spare clothes Draven had brought for him and placed them at the foot of the bed. “I will never hurt you, Lark.”
No more smiles, no more jokes. Perhaps it was too much to hope for no more lies, but we’d get there.
The humor drained from his face, leaving him so achingly vulnerable I almost wrapped my arms around him.
His grin flew back to his lips. “Unless I ask you to?”
“What?”
He shrugged a lean, pale shoulder, his smirk wicked.
I threw my hands up. “Must everything be innuendo? I’m trying to be forthright.”
“Well, I’m just attempting to get the measure of what’s happening here. I don’t recall you ever being this nice. It’s unsettling.”
“I was nice, once, before you… happened. I’ve been working on returning to being myself, before I turned into someone less nice.”
“Draven’s cock that good?”
“I… That’s not… We aren’t… It’s not like that.” Oh, hewantedto fight. It was there in his eyes, the little sparkle of mischief. “I know what you’re doing.”
“And what is that?”
“You’re more comfortable when fighting or distracting. Like this, being honest? You hate the truth. So you use that barbed tongue to trigger people. You want them to react and lash out or fight back.”
He worked his jaw and considered my words. “My tongue is not barbed, as you well know.” He beckoned, and I tossed him the shirt. “Then you aren’t sleeping with him?”
“I er… I don’t see why that’s relevant. And even if I was, it’s no different to… what happened with us.” I danced my gaze away. “Thatcertainly didn’t mean anything.” The lie tripped and fell off my tongue. I wasn’t even sure why I’d said it. To see his face, to see if it hurt, and if it did, then did he genuinely care?
He flashed a smile. “No. We—us—meant nothing. Why would it, when we’d both lied about who we were? You’re right, it’s irrelevant.” He writhed into the shirt, tugging it down over his speckled chest, hiding the scars. “You’re staring.”
But it felt relevant. It feltveryrelevant. Lark and I, what we’d had, it had been fierce, and barbed with lies, and so confusing, yet… it had felt more real than anything that had happened since, including Draven.
And now he was agreeing it was nothing?
“Draven and I, it happened once, and we didn’t… It was just… fooling around.” I blurted, and winced at my own idiocy. Draven and I were joined, and Lark had been the enemy at the time we’d taken pleasure in each other, my wedding day, no less. Surely, it was to be expected? I hadn’t known then what I knew now, and even if I had, Lark had only bedded me because he could, because that was one of the weapons he used to manipulate people. He’d screwed everyone in my court in one way or another. His screwing me was no different, except, perhaps, I’d made it different, because I’d wanted it to be real, even knowing it couldn’t be. I cared for him then, and I cared for him now. I hadn’t stopped, which was why I’d hated him so much too.
“Oh, just once?” Lark teased, almost laughing. “Not so good then.”
He just had to do that, had to get a dig in, like poking a knife into a wound.
I leaned against the bedpost, folded my arms, and dropped my gaze to the floor, ignoring his smirk. Lark was… complicated. So were my feelings for him, and us, and what we did or didn’t have. When we had been together, everything had been different. I’d been different then. And so had he.
With everything happening, it really was irrelevant. “You haven’t denied you prefer to argue,” I said, diverting his attention from what may or may not have done with Draven. He huffed, lifting my smile.
“I may enjoy poking your ire,” he admitted.
I’d almost lost him and the more that thought returned to me, the more its fear chilled my blood. “What you did… pouring all the poison into your own cup. You took a huge risk.”
“I know. Trousers?”
I tossed them in his general direction without looking. The bed rocked, creaked, and then he was up and striding toward the balcony doors, the desert wind in his tangled hair and billowing through his loose shirt.
