Page 25 of Warrior

Hmm.

I don’t hide my smug smile when he bites the cap of a marker off with his teeth and leans toward me. I focus on the top of his head. His short, dark hair isn’t visible under the black cap. The brim conceals the back of his neck, hiding that blush from this angle. I take in his dark eyelashes, the slope of his nose and slant of his cheekbone.

Did Michelangelo consider his muse for David so critically?

“Do you normally draw your designs freehand?”

I miss his expression, his head tilted as it is, but I imagine it’s somewhere between annoyance and anger. His grip on the marker tightens for a moment, then relaxes. I don’t look at the design—I don’t want to know.

I want to trust him.

Or… maybe I just want toshowthat I trust him.

My mind spins back to Artemis and the fact that she’s awake and he’s here. I was under the impression that he cared for her, and I don’t like being wrong.

“If the design is intricate, I’ll use a stencil.” His voice rasps. “But I’m confident in my abilities for this.”

I hum.

He tosses the marker on his work table and grabs another color, then wheels back to me. He pauses, poised, and continues.

I couldn’t tell you what he’s drawing.

“How did you get into tattooing?”

He scoffs. “You trying to get information to feed back to yourbrother?”

“Oh, yes, because Gabriel cares so much about that.” I roll my eyes. “Didn’t I already tell you he’s not my actual brother?”

“Then, what?” He sits up abruptly, and his gaze burns into mine. “Where is your loyalty?”

“To—” I cut myself off and laugh. “Never mind.”

“Yeah,” Saint goads. He shakes his head and points at my chest. “I should’ve gone with a realistic dick.”

I smirk. “Only if it was yours.”

His mouth drops open, shock overtaking the anger—but only for a moment. “I have half a mind to throw you out,” he says under his breath.

“You won’t,” I challenge. “You’re just scared.”

“I am not.”

“Then finish what you started.”

This is the way to get through to him, I think. Incessant needling.

Saint seems to contemplate it, and he releases a long sigh.

“Good boy,” I murmur, his decision clearly made.

My dick twitches, threatening to make itself known… and probably ruin this rapport we’ve been so nicely building.

But he doesn’t notice. Not yet. Instead, he motions again to the drawing. “Take a look and tell me if you want anything changed.”

“Do you see anything to change?”

He scowls. Then, when I don’t move, stands. He gives me a look, and I do the same. Intentionally in his space. I’m taller than him by a few inches. He has to tip his head back to meet my gaze, and he does it with no small amount of fire.

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