Free Hunted Warrior by Lindsey Piper Page B

“My . . . ?”
    â€œYour skinny ass and your crazy hair and your unnerving cat’s eyes. All of you. Back to Greece.”
    â€œWe’ve already taken that option off the table.”
    He liked seeing her so ruffled. “Have we?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œYou know, the Aegean is beautiful this time of year.”
    â€œI remember thinking the same thing as I left it.”
    â€œYou are my responsibility, whether you’re a threat or an asset. That,” he said, nodding to the quiver, “was a coincidence or a trick.”
    â€œYou saw me find the arrows.”
    â€œI didn’t see when you might have planted them.”
    She muttered something under her breath in a language he didn’t understand. Garnis? If that was even her clan. All he had were stories. Why would she suddenly tell the truth, when months of captivity had yielded nothing?
    â€œAnd predicting the future based on a dead man’s final, what, thoughts? I can’t believe that either. For all I know . . .” His skin, baking under the rising sun as they began walking, suddenly went cold. Grabbing her entire delicate jaw in one palm, he forced her to look at him. She didn’t meet his eyes. “For all I know, you knew about those Pendray.”
    â€œI saved your life.”
    â€œI have you and three dead Pendray. That’s where this begins and ends.”
    She swept a boot heel behind his left knee and yanked, catching just the right spot. Mal sprawled onto the ground. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her down with him. The quiver slipped from its place at her back.
    He rolled. He was on top of her. They both stilled.
    Mal’s shoulder hurt, but he wasn’t blind or dead or an idiot. He was stretched atop a confounding woman who looked up at him with eyes that were so perfectly gold and green, so wide, so chillingly distant. He got the impression that he could’ve taken her apart, limb by limb, and the same distance would’ve remained in her eyes.
    Only a moment ago, she’d been teasing him. That was gone. Unfortunately, so was what should’ve been gratitude for what she had done to heal him. She could’ve left, letting him bleed, taking the quiver and sword without a backward glance. He should’ve been grateful, but more disturbingly, he wanted that brief moment when she’d opened up enough to try making a joke or two. He got the impression that was a rare effort.
    With his elbow bracketing her face, he stared into those mesmerizing eyes. “You are a fraud. You come from some family of frauds.”
    She struggled and cursed, fighting until a sharp blow to his temple made him grunt.
    â€œYou’re not getting away that easily,” he growled.
    â€œI only struck your temple. I could use my knuckles against your shoulder.” She sneered. “That would take the fight out of you Dragon-damned quick.”
    â€œAnd you accused me of making threats I can’t go through with.” She didn’t retaliate. She simply licked her lower lip. Mal couldn’t have looked away had his life depended on it. Instead, he decided on a different tactic—one that needed to happen if he were to retain his sanity. “Kiss me, Avyi.”
    Mal ignored the lingering pain in his shoulder in order to grasp both of her hands. He pinned them above her head and took the kiss he wanted. It was heated and heady once again, but with a different flavor. They were celebrating; they were at war. She was driving him mad with frustration and indecision that felt like weakness. He wouldn’t stand for it.
    Avyi growled and fought his hold, but she didn’t squirm away from his questing mouth. He needed her taste. With lips and tongue, he forced his way in. But that was all he needed to force. She met his tongue with every heavy pulse of blood in his veins as their duel was dictated by body and breath. Somewhere in the haze of that