Page 102 of Daughter of No Worlds
“The first step is to force them to confront the reality,” Max said, as if he heard my unspoken doubts. “People don’t like to do that, but I saw it happen tonight. Even in Zeryth, and normally his head is too far up his own ass to see much of anything.”
“But I must decide what is next.”
“You will. And you know I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t believe it.”
He did believe it. I knew he did. And I didn’t let our gazes hold long enough to see all of it — the depths of it — for reasons I couldn’t quite understand.
Instead, I gave him a weak smile. “Right now, I just need to get out of this dress.”
As soon as the words left her lips, I swallowed an odd buzz that rose to skin at my choice of phrasing. And I wondered if I was imagining the timing of Max’s extra blink, the slight shift in his stance.
But he just said, “Understandable. Get some rest.”
“Goodnight.”
I went back to my room and closed the door. Slipped out of my deeply uncomfortable shoes. Then I reached to my back to unfasten the clasp at the back of my dress —
And let out a grunt of pain. Strands of my hair had loosened over the course of the night and tangled themselves around clasps that held my dress around my neck. I fought with it for a few minutes longer, then, when I finally feared I might draw blood, I gave with a flail of frustration and marched back out into the living room. “I am stuck.”
Max put down his book. “You’re stuck.”
“Yes. My hair, and my dress—” I gestured to my neck. “Can you… uh… help?”
He stood there, still, for a second too long. And in that moment, an image flashed through my mind. Hands and skin. Red silk on the ground.
I shook it away.Gods, Tisaanah. Control yourself.
“Well,” he replied. “You would have to get in line behind all of the other women who want me to undress them.”
I rolled my eyes, turning around and lifting my hair. “Have I not earned first place?”
A soft chuckle. “I suppose that is undeniable.”
I heard every step. And then his hands were at the back of my neck. My scalp tingled as he gently — so gently — pushed my hair away, smoothing loose strands against my throat.
My eyelids fluttered.
“Hold your hair further back.” His voice just a little too rough.
I obeyed, and he set to work, tension lapsing into complete focus.
“Ascended, what did youdo?This is all wound up—”
“Ow!”
“Sorry, sorry, I just need to get it off of this part and… fucking hell. You’ve got a loose thread all tangled up in here, too. Whomadethis thing?”
“I had to make some changes!” I said, defensively. “And I am not a… a…sewing person.”
“Seamstress. The word is seamstress. Hang on… I have to…”
And I was not prepared for everything that shot through me, all at once, as I felt his breath against the back of my neck. His mouth so close to my skin that I could feel the barest brushes of his lips.
I drew in a sharp inhale.
The panful tension in my hair released.
He had been using his teeth, I realized — to break the tangled threads.
