Free More than Truth (Arcane Crossbreeds) by Amanda Vyne Page B

keeping her sister.
    Swathed in thick white towels, Brit stepped out of the shower and froze. There was a collection of hygiene supplies on the vanity. Vin must have come back while she was in the shower. She glanced back at the frosted walls of the shower stall and decided with no little relief that he couldn’t have possibly seen much while he was in here. Brit was a scientist and viewed the body and sex in an impersonal manner, but Tag—and now Vin—made them feel very personal somehow.
    The mundane tasks of brushing her teeth and hair comforted her, giving her fortitude to face Vin, especially since the only item of clothing left besides the ones she’d been wearing was a large button-down cotton shirt. She was almost positive it was the one he’d been wearing, which had her imagining him sitting in that big red chair with his wide chest and broad shoulders bare. Or sprawled on the bed, all that creamy dark skin—
    Oh God, she needed to stop now before she lost all the ground she’d gained during her long shower. She had herself under control, but it was paper-thin and would shred with the least provocation. What she needed was rest so she could put some distance between her and this frustrating vulnerability that plagued her. For days she’d heard nothing but her own breathing, and the impenetrable darkness had soon turned into a screen for her every regret and nightmare to be projected against. Her fears were still so close to the surface she was afraid merely closing her eyes would bring them back. She’d thought about Tag, fantasized really. Crazy, impossible fantasies. And now Vin was here, and he didn’t feel like a stranger to her.
    Maybe it was because he looked so much like Tag or because she just needed the comfort and strength. Whatever it was, she was susceptible to him right now. After what she’d done to Tag, she couldn’t compound it by sleeping with his brother.
    Pushing the bathroom door open, she saw he’d pulled a small side table to the bed and there was another bottle of water as well as two containers of packaged, premade soups. Appearing to be asleep, he was sitting in the chair, feet propped on the matching ottoman, massive arms folded over his bare chest. Her mouth watered at all that bronzed flesh. And the tattoo that engulfed his left arm.
    “It’s beautiful.”
    Vin opened his eyes, and they looked more green than brown as his gaze wandered down the oversized shirt and over her bare legs. The shirttails just brushed the tops of her knees. She wore skirts the same length in the lab, but somehow this felt more provocative—maybe because in the lab she wore undergarments and hose. Right now she didn’t have the added protection of any of those things under his shirt.
    “What’s beautiful?”
    Brit smoothed her hands down her thighs and quickly made her way across the room to sit on the bed. He’d pulled the sheets back for her. Oddly, that soothed her enough to relax—a little. She nodded to the intricate serpent wrapped around the thick muscle of his forearm. “Your tattoo. Most Drachon have them?”
    Vin dropped his feet to the floor and leaned forward to uncap their soups and unscrew the top on her water. “All males. It’s a reflection of the daemos.”
    Brit took a tentative sip of the soup and grimaced. It was an unexplainable and particularly foul taste, but she knew better than to be picky when options were limited. “Daemos?” she repeated thoughtfully. She’d heard that before. “Dragon spirit.”
    He frowned down at the top of the soup he’d just taken a sip from. “As boys we are taken under the tutelage of a spiritual leader called a mantis . We’re trained and tested until our daemos makes itself known. Then the mantis draws it on our skin, at which point we are considered to have entered manhood.”
    Brit studied the tattoo as she considered his explanation. The Drachon were so secretive about their culture, she knew very little about them. Treating