Trey’s eyes flicked down to her body before training back on her face. His hands, she’d noticed, were no longer tapping. “So, what I saw you wearing this morning?”
“That’s what I always wear, yes. Can you imagine helping out in the armory wearing this?” She gestured to her dress. “And I hate that it’s seen as a big deal for me to dislike the typical female ware. Because it’s not. It’s just self-important Matherin men who make it one.” She shrugged.
“You’re not wrong,” he said, “but in all honesty, it wasn’t your choice of clothing that bothered me.” His demeanor became more serious. “It was what you looked like. I wasn’t expecting you to open the door looking like someone had just beat the shit out of you.”
She turned away, schooling her expression. He wasn’t angry or disgusted. He cared about her, and the knowledge did something to her middle. A pleasant warmth spread through her, and she suddenly wished she were sitting with a giant mug of alcohol rather than miserably riding atop a horse.
“There’s more to it than my clothing preference, but I won’t explain it. I can’t. What I can guarantee, is it’s not what you think. It looked worse than it was.” Kind of.
He was quiet for a moment before glancing to Elric, who rode ahead of them with Prince Eithan. Something like understanding flickered across his eyes, and he nodded. “Fair enough.”
She couldn’t contain the sigh of relief that burst out of her, and he snickered. “So, what will you tell me about yourself, Vera? Something you wouldn’t have told me yesterday but will now because you owe me.” He wiggled his eyebrows.
Keeping a straight face, she said, “I can out-drink Elric.”
He laughed so abruptly, he choked and was thrown into a coughing fit. It was several minutes before he could speak again.
“You know Trey, I think I like you better like this. With your tongue controlled, you almost seem like a well-behaved—”
“No,” he interrupted, “Somehow I think you’d like me even better if my tongue weren’t controlled at all.” He grinned suggestively at her, and she snorted. She knew they were drawing attention and tried to smooth out her expression, but every time she glanced over at him, she’d lose it all over again.
“You know, Vera, you just might be my new favorite person.”
She could only smile as her heart swelled and her throat seemed to close. Maybe this trip hadn’t been such a disaster after all.
JAREN
He lurched awake, instantly focusing on his surroundings. He enhanced his hearing, but there were no sounds within yards of him except for the scurrying of creatures. He couldn’t even make out anyone walking down the street. He was alone. Looking at the sky, he could make out the beginnings of dawn and cursed.
He’d been lying unconscious and fucking defenseless for hours. Anything could have happened, and for all he knew, anyone could have seen him while he’d been a pathetic lump of uselessness sprawled out in filth. His lip curled in disgust, and the sticky layer of blood that had dried on his face pulled at his skin.
Oh, he was pissed. He inhaled deeply to try to settle his rage but faltered. Over the stale smell of blood clogging his nostrils, he was suddenly overwhelmed with the lingering scent of her.
It swirled all around, threatening to suffocate him. It was so strong; Jaren almost couldn’t believe he’d missed it when she’d first attacked him. He’d been so focused on meeting her strike for strike, he’d smelled nothing but the mild tang of sweat. Nothing to hint at what lay beneath her clothing.
Fuck.
She’d been zhu. One hundred percent, utterly female. He couldn’t say he felt any shame in his inability to notice. Her loose clothing had hidden the feminine figure he’d later felt, and her scent had been well masked.
Up until he’d cut into her neck, she hadn’t given him any reason to look closer. Not to mention he’d never even heard of a woman on Aleron possessing fighting skills. Women here weren’t respected the way the zhu on Bhasura were. He wouldn’t make the mistake of underestimating her again.
Gods, he’d almost killed her. Thinking her just some guard for the puny princeling, it had unnerved him more than he’d liked to admit imagining Matherin men fighting with such speed and skill. And after her last kick to his side, he’d been so lost to hatred, he’d been seconds away from opening her throat and watching her choke on her own blood.
His thoughts had come crashing to a halt when he’d realized his arm was pressed against breasts. Obvious, full breasts. When he’d leaned in and caught the rich smell of her blood, he’d had to practically throw his head back to avoid inhaling deeper.
Her scent had been intoxicating. Smelling like wind, flames, and iron all rolled together, he imagined it was probably what the stars themselves smelled like. He growled as it infuriated him all over again.
Like a runt fresh out of training, he’d let her damn smell distract him, and he’d lowered his defenses. Because she hadn’t just been some Aleronian woman. The potency of her blood had told him she was a fucking pure-blooded Magyki.
Jaren’s shock had been so strong, he was surprised it hadn’t knocked him off his feet. But in hindsight, he should have known by her speed and strength alone.
Even though she’d obviously yet to unlock her full power reserve, she’d still naturally excel at fighting compared to any human. No person on Aleron fought with that kind of grace. At least, none that Jaren had ever encountered.
If all that wasn’t already enough, she’d been fucking breathtaking. Determined gray eyes under long lashes, dark brown curls framing her face and sticking to her sweat-coated brow. Her full lips had been parted in surprise as if she were just as transfixed as him. He could scent her shifting emotions and her cheeks had reddened under his gaze.
She’d raised her hand, and he’d thought for sure she would touch him. He’d wanted to ask her name. He’d needed to know it. But his voice refused to cooperate when she’d turned, and he caught sight of her ear.
Her fucking scarred ear.
He’d never seen a Magyki’s ears clipped before, but he could tell it hadn’t been some back-room hack job. Whoever had altered them, knew what they were doing. Jaren doubted any human would ever second-guess her heritage.
Against his better judgment, as if his hand had a mind of its own, he’d been compelled to touch the pale scar. But the second his skin grazed hers, her entire body had stiffened, and she’d reacted like he’d struck her.
Her scent had shifted, her fear shooting through him like a hit to the gut, forcing him to instinctively step back. He’d still been trying to simply breathe around the potency when she’d glared at him with hatred a split second before breaking his nose.