the tournament, I believe.
There’s a faint smile teasing his lips that, despite its size, seems to radiate joy. Probably not the type of joy that will bring me any happiness.
“Can I help you, miss?” His odd request drawls out in a slow, lazy sort of way.
My pulse is pounding so hard it almost hurts, yet I don’t know what’s making it faster this warlock or my quickening pace. Probably both. I’m careful to keep my head lowered and voice submissive. “No, I don’t think so, sir.”
The statement doesn’t deter him from continuing on, nor does it stop him from staring at me. Not that I expected it to, but things would have been easier.
“ Are you certain? You look lost.”
This statement does the strangest thing to me. Tears build, stinging for release. But it’s a feeling I know how to suppress. What’s harder is suppressing the fear. “I’m fine.”
He gives a small snort as if he doesn’t believe me, then gives my neck a not so subtle glance. “Is your owner around?”
My unbranded skin says I should still be under my father’s control. I cover it with my hand, but it’s too late. Should have stayed in my cold, little alley. Might as well hope the truth can save me before something drastic is needed, like a spell. “The only owner I have is myself.”
His eyebrows rise. “Serena?”
Her name startles me into looking straight into his rich, brown eyes. It's only for a brief moment before I remember myself, yet it's enough to prove my willfulness. Of course warlocks know her name. Am I going to spend the rest of my life having my status compared to hers? “No.”
His eyebrows crinkle together, creating a thin line between them. It makes me want to look at him full on instead of out of the corner of my eye and discover how true of a reaction that really is as he answers. “But she’s the only Chardonian woman who isn’t owned… Unless you’re not Chardonian?”
“ I am.” Unfortunately. The way he keeps staring at me makes me wonder what he’s planning that he doesn’t want to let me out of his sight. At least it gets rid of the desire to look at him closer. He is the enemy, I remind myself. All males are except Zade.
“ My status is newly acquired.” As in, so new I don’t know if Edward has told anyone else yet like I’m hoping he’s done. Like he must do if I’m to survive.
“ Ah. I see.” His smile widens. “Is that why you look so lost?”
I have an urge to ramble a reply, one that would likely turn into my life story if I started. This man is making it difficult to keep myself in check. Why doesn’t he just do whatever it is he’s going to do to me? Why do they always have to turn it into a game? “I do not look lost.”
His smile shifts to one that says he doesn’t believe it, but he’ll humor me. Like the type of smile one would give to a small child who doesn’t know better. “Forgive me if I misinterpreted your standing out in the rain, watching everyone go by with big, hungry eyes like you don’t know what to do, as lost.”
I scowl at him. Has he been watching even longer than I thought? And then I realize that my emotions are slipping through. Again, apparently. What is it about him that is making me lose control? It’s not him. It’s the situation. I’ve never been in one like this before, and it’s making me break. I grasp my emotions back tightly within while keeping my head lowered.
“Thank you for your concern, but I assure you, there’s no need for your assistance.”
“ Hmm.” He nods his head like he finally understands what I’m saying, but instead of leaving like I hope, he says, “Then I imagine you’d turn down an offer to share my umbrella?”
I most definitely don’t want to share an umbrella with some warlock. Warlocks are trouble. Not only trouble, but also harbingers of tarnishings and death. Besides, I’m already soaked. Nothing will change that now. Not even a kindly-offered umbrella.
“That would be a correct
There’s a faint smile teasing his lips that, despite its size, seems to radiate joy. Probably not the type of joy that will bring me any happiness.
“Can I help you, miss?” His odd request drawls out in a slow, lazy sort of way.
My pulse is pounding so hard it almost hurts, yet I don’t know what’s making it faster this warlock or my quickening pace. Probably both. I’m careful to keep my head lowered and voice submissive. “No, I don’t think so, sir.”
The statement doesn’t deter him from continuing on, nor does it stop him from staring at me. Not that I expected it to, but things would have been easier.
“ Are you certain? You look lost.”
This statement does the strangest thing to me. Tears build, stinging for release. But it’s a feeling I know how to suppress. What’s harder is suppressing the fear. “I’m fine.”
He gives a small snort as if he doesn’t believe me, then gives my neck a not so subtle glance. “Is your owner around?”
My unbranded skin says I should still be under my father’s control. I cover it with my hand, but it’s too late. Should have stayed in my cold, little alley. Might as well hope the truth can save me before something drastic is needed, like a spell. “The only owner I have is myself.”
His eyebrows rise. “Serena?”
Her name startles me into looking straight into his rich, brown eyes. It's only for a brief moment before I remember myself, yet it's enough to prove my willfulness. Of course warlocks know her name. Am I going to spend the rest of my life having my status compared to hers? “No.”
His eyebrows crinkle together, creating a thin line between them. It makes me want to look at him full on instead of out of the corner of my eye and discover how true of a reaction that really is as he answers. “But she’s the only Chardonian woman who isn’t owned… Unless you’re not Chardonian?”
“ I am.” Unfortunately. The way he keeps staring at me makes me wonder what he’s planning that he doesn’t want to let me out of his sight. At least it gets rid of the desire to look at him closer. He is the enemy, I remind myself. All males are except Zade.
“ My status is newly acquired.” As in, so new I don’t know if Edward has told anyone else yet like I’m hoping he’s done. Like he must do if I’m to survive.
“ Ah. I see.” His smile widens. “Is that why you look so lost?”
I have an urge to ramble a reply, one that would likely turn into my life story if I started. This man is making it difficult to keep myself in check. Why doesn’t he just do whatever it is he’s going to do to me? Why do they always have to turn it into a game? “I do not look lost.”
His smile shifts to one that says he doesn’t believe it, but he’ll humor me. Like the type of smile one would give to a small child who doesn’t know better. “Forgive me if I misinterpreted your standing out in the rain, watching everyone go by with big, hungry eyes like you don’t know what to do, as lost.”
I scowl at him. Has he been watching even longer than I thought? And then I realize that my emotions are slipping through. Again, apparently. What is it about him that is making me lose control? It’s not him. It’s the situation. I’ve never been in one like this before, and it’s making me break. I grasp my emotions back tightly within while keeping my head lowered.
“Thank you for your concern, but I assure you, there’s no need for your assistance.”
“ Hmm.” He nods his head like he finally understands what I’m saying, but instead of leaving like I hope, he says, “Then I imagine you’d turn down an offer to share my umbrella?”
I most definitely don’t want to share an umbrella with some warlock. Warlocks are trouble. Not only trouble, but also harbingers of tarnishings and death. Besides, I’m already soaked. Nothing will change that now. Not even a kindly-offered umbrella.
“That would be a correct
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