Page 37 of Lesson In Forgiveness

“Three against one?”

She lifted her shoulder. “Faced worse odds against more determined enemies. They were already reaching the point where Dominic’s tyranny was undermining his control, so they weren’t really that inclined to follow orders. If he’d just sent one, I might be dead, but instead it became a bonding moment between the four of us. A new beginning.”

“You turned into a team?”

“God, no. We were far too independent at that stage, too used to being on our own, acting as all-in-one weapon systems. Much like Darius when he was ordered to kill Caera, it was our epiphany moment; we just agreed enough was enough and… walked away. Went our own separate ways, knowing each of us was out there in the big, wide world somewhere, and started our lives away from the manor.”

Frowning, Grit mulled that over. “None of you went back to shut the operation down?”

Her eyes flicked with… guilt? Remorse? “I can only speak for myself, I guess. I was young, on my own for the first time, without a cent to my name. I spent two years worming my way back into the job; Dominic tanked my reputation in an effort to drive me home to the fold. My self-confidence plummeted, I fucked up a half-dozen jobs because I was so desperate to succeed, and murdering the asshole seemed an insurmountable task.”

Yeah, he could understand that. Had been there himself, actually. It was a demoralizing experience, especially when he knew he was capable of doing the job he’d just royally screwed up.

“When I got word that Jasper was on the hunt, planning on taking Dominic down because of the whole kidnapping situation, I’d already been contemplating going back to end it. My confidence and reputation were the best they’d ever been. I actually felt… ready.”

Grit nodded, imagining her all revved up and primed for battle. He’d read the reports on the mission in Montana and, while the words were stiff and formal, they’d provided an excellent picture of just how well Tabitha fared when under enemy fire.

She and Darius, along with a few Avalon Masters, had decimated Dominic’s hired crew.

If he recalled correctly, she was described as focused, deadly, and unflappable. Unsurprisingly, he thought, given that Dominic was in her sights.

“You kicked ass.”

“I did what I was trained to do,” she mumbled, but the quick flush of heat in her cheeks told him she was pleased by his comment. When she fidgeted in her chair, he smiled and pushed back his chair; she gave him a wary look. “What?”

“I want to try something,” he said simply. “Come here.”

“A please wouldn’t go amiss,” Tabitha grumbled.

“I leave the pretty words for when you’re riding my—” Oh fuck. Catching the glib retort before it spooked her into bolting, he cleared his throat. Absolutely the wrong woman to tease about begging when she was stuffed full of his cock. He needed to be more careful until she became used to him. “Never mind. Please, little tiger, would you come here?”

It was fascinating to watch her slide on pieces of emotional armor, bit by bit. Honestly, it was sexy as hell. Cocky arrogance, a bucketload of sass, a dash of predator, and a pinch of alluring siren. She layered them on, one at a time, and topped off her ensemble with a heavy chainmail vest of sheer insanity.

Allowing her to believe she had full control of the situation, Grit leaned back in his chair and enjoyed the way she prowled toward him, a sleek tigress stalking her prey. Her defenses were up, raised high, shielding the lost little girl she honestly didn’t think existed anymore.

The woman sashaying his way was a fucking goddess. Confidence in every slow, measured stride. Sexuality in the sway of her hips, the small kick of her feet as she strutted toward him. The flash of her calves through the slit of her robe.

Those eyes… fuck, he loved those goddamn eyes. Part rabid animal, part sulky seductress, part otherworldly innocence. She could grow a pair of elven ears, let her white-gold locks waterfall down to her knees, and he’d have no problem believing she was an elf queen, crown and all.

She stopped in front of him. “You summoned me, oh master?”

Letting his gaze fall from her eyes all the way down to her cute little toes and back up again, he inclined his head. “I sure did. Straddle me.”

It was barely noticeable, but she jerked. “I beg your pardon?”

Grit snorted. “You’ve spent too much time stalking our British friend, little tiger. An emphatic excuse me? would have gotten your point across just as effectively.”

“The last man I straddled,” she purred, “died screaming, trying to put his guts back through the hole I made from here,” she whispered, touching her fingernail to Grit’s sternum, “to here.”

Damn it, his cock jerked as her nail trailed down the shallow valley between his abs to his navel. He lifted his eyebrow, meeting her combative stare without flinching. “Don’t see any weapons on you, Tabby Cat, but why don’t you slip that robe off for safety’s sake?”

The power balance was more even, he mused as she held his gaze with a fierce confidence he hadn’t expected. She wasn’t beneath him, her movements being limited by his weight. She obviously felt less threatened by him this way, which was what he wanted to find out.

The belt of the robe slipped through the loops around her waist, slithering to the floor in a furry coil. Challenge sparking hotly in her eyes, she splayed open the two halves of the garment, offering him a grade-fucking-A view of her no-pun-intended killer body, letting it roll over the balls of her shoulders.

“Do I look armed to you, Rory?”

Trick question. She was damn near military grade weaponry. Little details like guns, knives, and unfriendly implements were simply add-ons for her to play with; she didn’t need any of them to cause damage.

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