Page 41 of Warrior's Reign
“We all serve.”
Reign resigned herself to pissing off the cohort she wanted to cultivate relationships with. She’d dirty her reputation a bit, though when this op was over she could make a round of quiet explanations—Vykhan would think it beneath his dignity to do so. “Yes, sir,” she said finally.
And maybe it was better this way. She’d be spending the next few years working harder than she ever had, building her network, her income, her reputation in a new city. Laying the first bricks of a permanent base.
Reign stared at Vykhan. She wanted what he had. Icolo was right. Name, wealth, reputation, and security for her children if she had them. Respect.
But she wanted even more.
She craved those moments of complete sync, the experience of being with someone who understood her so completely words had been unnecessary. The peace and certainty.
Though she’d asked Numar to tell Eredan she wished to see him, he hadn’t come. She’d been partly convinced that if she just asked for him, he’d. . .just climb through her proverbial window or something. Stubborn pride had kept her silent when he’d left her without a word. She had no pride left, only hunger pangs.
“Why?” she asked when the silence had stretched on far too long. “What was the purpose?”
He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. But he didn’t answer, instead veiling his eyes with his lashes, his hand still resting on his desk.
Quiet men didn’t deter her, and though he refused to speak, he communicated loudly enough with his nonverbals. Subtly stiffening shoulders, firm mouth. The finger that tapped once, then stilled. He didn’t want her to pursue this line of questioning, was holding something back.
But what? “What possible reason could there be to play that kind of game with me?”
His eyes pinned her. “I play no games, Obe’shan.”
“What would you call it then? A training exercise?” Anger burned her through. She stepped forward, leaned her hands on the desk. He looked down at her, unmoving. “How far would you have taken it? Would you havegone deepjust to see if you could?”
Nowhe was angry. His eyes burned, a flush of color under his blue skin highlighting the slash of his cheekbones. “I play no games.” Each word distinct, like the pieces of a snapped off steel blade.
She smiled nastily. “Fine. But next time you want to touch me, have the courage to use your own face. I don’t fuck cowards, or liars.”
Reign turned and took one step before he was on her. Shock robbed her breath even as he whirled her around, backed her against the wall, caging her with his arms.
Well, damn. Or rather, Silence be damned.
Reign realized she’d never truly seen him angry until now. And the way he’d moved, the swift rush of silent motion, much like. . .
“Accuse me of such and we’ll be in the dueling circle, you and I,” he said in a low voice, the hoarse edge betraying the strength it took to control his temper. His eyes glittered, nearly feral, his teeth clenched.
Reign shifted and he grabbed her wrists, slamming them above her head.
“If this isn’t foreplay, get the fuck off me,” she snarled. She hadno ideawhere those words came from, but his own unraveling control tugged at the frayed tatters of hers as well.
“Take back your words, or meet me in the dueling circle.”
She studied him, fighting the red rising tide of her temper. “Triggered much? No one ever calls you a coward or a liar, do they?” She darkened her voice into a deep purr. “Fine. How about a sexual predator? Or what would you call a man who eye fucks a woman while cloaked in a false identity?”
He closed his eyes, a shudder running through his body. Reign watched with vicious satisfaction, mentally clawing down the barriers he erected against her. Refused to think about why, suddenly, those barriers rankled.
When he opened his eyes, they were the calm before a night storm at sea. “What is my name?” he asked, very gently. He almost sounded like himself.
Reign scowled. “I know your name.”
“What is my name?”
“Vykhan.”
“And you clearly see my face?”
“I don’t understand the point of—”
