Free Dying Commitment (Lucky Thirteen) by S.M. Butler

some dead Valonian monarch. These people were nuts over their royals. “The reality is that the line is blurry for me. I’m not there yet.”
    “I can wait for you. I would wait for you.”
    “I might never be ready, though.”
    “I think you will be, someday.” I glanced out of the corner of my eye. “I’d like to be there when you are.”
    “I wish I could be as sure as you are.” Her smile was sad as she started walking away. I stayed at her side. Moments passed as we walked, like we were just another couple out for a stroll.
    There was more in her eyes, more she wanted to say, but didn’t. I couldn’t help but think that maybe I’d broken through her defenses a little, maybe I’d made her believe that trust wasn’t really evil.
    Baby steps, Bambi.
    Damn it. Now she had me calling myself Bambi.
    ~*~*~
    Cadence
    “So what’s your plan? You going to go knock on Jack Allen’s door? Ask him to tea?”
    I side-eyed Dylan as we entered the room we were staying in. This wasn’t near as posh as the one I’d woken up at in Portugal, but we weren’t staying in the tourist district of Valonia’s capital. We were staying just outside the city limits, at a small bed and breakfast inside the Boudin county lines.
    “Cady? Talk to me. What are you thinking?”
    Dylan was asking too many questions. Like he was sticking around. I couldn’t afford to have him around. He’d either slow me down, or he’d get himself hurt.
    The house was owned by this gorgeous older couple who only spoke French. With Valonia’s proximity to the French and Swiss borders, that wasn’t surprising. Dylan didn’t know the French or German, two of the four national languages, but I knew them fluently. Luckily, most of Valonia spoke English because it was such a huge touristic destination, so Dylan wouldn’t be sticking out like a sore thumb. Still, he looked like the All-American Boy. Anyone with half sense would see Dylan for the military man he was.
    “No answer, sweetness?”
    I was really getting sick to death of the pet names he’d decided to call me. Babe. Darling. Sweetness. It made me want to punch puppies. I set my backpack down and crossed my arms. “You’re being kind of an ass, right now.”
    “Who, me? In like, the most romantic room ever?” He spread out his arms and turned around to show off the room. “I would never.”
    It was a nice room. A king size bed in the center was the sole focus. Pretty butterfly and flowers wallpaper looked as if it was straight out of a fairy tale. The floor was carpeted, with an area rug over it that matched the wallpaper. It was really darling, like we were damn honeymooners. But that was the cover. It fit, except that was the last thing I wanted to be.
    I glared at him but he only laughed at me. “Doll, you need to not be so serious.”
    “Well, maybe you should be more serious,” I shot back.
    He stepped over to me, too close for comfort. I kept my arms crossed, because I was fairly sure I’d melt into him if I didn’t. He made me have this reaction to him. I hated it. I loved it. Hell, I didn’t even know anymore. His hands slid up and down my upper arms. “Sometimes, you just gotta laugh, honey.”
    In that moment, our eyes met and locked. Gone was the whimsical Dylan who couldn’t even have a conversation without cracking a joke, usually one that was offensive to someone in the conversation. His dark eyes probed my face, searching for something I wasn’t sure I had to give.
    “Remember what I said about staying professional?” I whispered. He nodded but did not reply. I was glad. I wasn’t sure I had it in me to continue if he spoke. “Fuck it.”
    The grin that sprouted was so broad, I was afraid it might break his face. He cupped my face in his large, hot palms. He leaned in and gently kissed me, caressing my lips with his in a gentle fashion when I needed more from him. “I’ve been waiting for you to figure that out, sweet pea.”
    With those two words,