Page 105 of Warrior's Reign
When she leaned forward to top up her glass, Vykhan knocked her hand away. “No.”
Lohail pursed his lips. “Really?”
Reign scowled at Vykhan. “Did you just knock my hand away like I’m a toddler?”
“Don’t behave like one then.” He sounded almost testy. “You know better than to drink strange wine in an enemy’s lair.”
“Hardly an enemy, Vykhan. But you’re right, we have business to discuss. I can always play with Reign in private later.”
Vykhan stilled. She held her breath, a fine tremble in her fingers. Lohail’s smile sharpened and he stared at Vykhan. Daring.
Reign felt a split second before Vykhan was about to pounce. She touched his thigh. The hard muscle under her fingers jerked. “He’s baiting you. Who’s being a toddler now?”
After three heartbeats, the swirl of danger dissipated. “As you wish. Though Lohail knows just how far he can push me before eliciting a reaction he would so richly deserve.”
Lohail smirked at Reign over the rim of his fourth glass of wine. “You should try one of those reactions sometime, my dear. And let me know how it is for you, hmm?”
37
She tookanother glass of the wine. Vykhan tensed, shifting subtly. Forget him anyway. She sipped, listening to them talk, even relaxed when they stopped their weird flirt-sniping like hostile ex-somethings happy but not too happy to have been thrown in each other’s company again. She hoped whatever unresolved business they had, they resolved it.
Eventually she let herself relax against Vykhan’s side, leaning her head on his shoulder as she curled her legs up on the couch. He continued to converse, brushing his fingers over the top of her head once, then along her shoulder.
Reign held up her empty wineglass, her hand trembling, her mood spiraling. What she needed was a good, clean fight. She tended to spiral to her dark places when events reeled out of her control, and she couldn’t count on there always being someone present to snatch her back out. Benyon wasn’t here, and Ibukay wasn’t here. Icolo and Martha didn’t even know where she was, and Vykhan. . .
Well, Vykhan.
Just as she decided drinking herself into a stupor was a piss poor idea—not that she hadn’t known that anyway—he plucked the glass from her and shoved a small plate of food bits under her nose instead.
Vykhan lowered his mouth to her ear. “I warned you about the wine, Reign. Are you testing me?”
Lohail scoffed.
Reign ignored them both and surveyed the selections on the plate, blinking through the feather bed feeling in her mind. “Didn’t you mention business to discuss? Like how the hell I’m getting back on planet?”
“Other than under Imperial guard?” Lohail asked. “Yes, that does appear to be a dilemma.”
Reign cocked her head. The lights on Lohail’s skin were so pretty. In nature, pretty usually disguised something preparing to eat you. “And yet neither of you appear to be concerned.”
“Because there is no need,” Vykhan said. “We sit in the eye—the storm will come to us.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s the plan? Just sit tight and wait for the cavalry to storm the castle?” She waved a hand, forgetting there was a plate of food in it. Vykhan caught the plate and set it on the table. “Does Ibukay know what you’re doing?”
“I made no secret of my intentions,” Vykhan said.
Which wasn’t an answer. But maybe it was the best he could give in the current company. Lohail watched him more than he watched Reign.
“Why,” she asked her host, “did you offer me sanctuary?”
Vykhan’s fingers in her hair stilled for a second. It was enough of an answer, and proof he was more rattled than he let on. Over the last several weeks she’d felt as if his impenetrable shields were slowly peeling back, and when he’d declared himself she’d wondered if that was simply because he was opening up to her. Now she wondered if the cracks were stress, tension. . .playing two sides.
But how deep did Vykhan’s game go?
“In exchange for a favor,” Lohail said, drawing her attention.
“I didn’t offer you a favor.”
“Not from you,” was the pleasant reply.
