Chapter 9 #2
The armorer isn’t here, but Reid is hunched over one of the workbenches, tinkering with the chain of a spiked flail while a female student with a fair complexion and icy-blond hair watches with hearts in her eyes.
This time, I know the hot feeling in my chest is pure, quality-guaranteed annoyance.
Doesn’t she know the man is a predator that needs to be put down?
“You really did a number on this thing,” he murmurs, eyes still on the broken chain. “Dragon?”
“Giant, actually,” she tells him. She’s practically on her tippy-toes to inch closer. “Found him in the plains outside my hometown this summer. Killed him all on my own.”
His response is quiet. Measured. “Well done.”
I roll my eyes, wandering through displays of gleaming metal as I wait for the armorer to come back. It’s all I can do not to nab something and swing toward the brand on Reid’s neck. I try to count my breaths.
One. Two. Three—
My eyes catch on one of the sealed-off cases, locked with an ancient-looking iron padlock.
Inside are several short swords—bejeweled and polished and sparkling like wet diamonds in sunlight.
The smallest one, resting on a velvet cushion in the display corner, looks oddly similar to my own.
It’s cleaner than mine and has a different carving, not the doe nor the serpent.
This one is of some kind of prowling jungle cat.
A jaguar, maybe. It’s savage-looking—narrowed eyes, bared fangs—but carrying a small kitten on its back.
“Don’t get any ideas,” a rough voice says behind me.
I spin to find Reid glaring at me. Curiosity and irritation war in his eyes.
“Any ideas about what?”
“You’re not strong enough to break that glass. No hunter is. That’s why they use it.”
I gape at him until I find the words to express my outrage. “You think I’m casing the place?”
Reid only shrugs. “I saw you try to flee orientation. Here for a souvenir before you go?”
Shame coats my cheeks. Even worse, behind us, the pretty blonde is hanging around, clutching her fixed weapon, clearly pretending to browse the soldering machines as she uses her heightened hearing to listen in.
I should just leave. Fix my blade tomorrow. But I can’t help myself. “I’m staying,” I manage between clenched teeth. “I’m here to fix my damn dagger.”
Reid’s expression hardly changes. “The cracked one?”
“Yes. And why are you still hovering over me anyway? I came to your secret school, didn’t I? You can stop stalking me now.”
Reid’s eyes twinkle in the low lantern light. “Stalking?”
“Yeah, you’re, like…keeping tabs on me or something.
” I peer past the shelves and behind the countertop.
In the back room, I can only make out a smattering of half-built swords and knives.
Still no armorer. “Or are you just jonesing for the immortal energy drink you missed out on in that alley? Is it hard? Being surrounded by all the goods in a place like this?” I nod toward Blondie and find her stiff as a board.
Bet you never thought about that, I think.
That the handsome Brood demon you’re mooning over might crave your very soul.
Reid says nothing, though his jaw has turned to granite. It seems I’ve struck a nerve. The fury in his eyes is like fire to the freezing—I want to stoke those flames and bathe in them.
“I don’t take human souls,” he snarls. “You think they’d employ me here if I did?”
I glare at him. “Then why were you watching me so intensely today?”
Reid folds his arms across his chest and leans against the wall. “You’re hard to miss.” He doesn’t say it like it’s a compliment.
Steam could billow from my ears. “Why are you always leaning against things? Are you very off-balance or something?”
Behind us, Blondie stifles a laugh that sounds a little like a gasp.
To my shock, a subtle smirk tugs at the corner of Reid’s mouth. It’s a look I haven’t seen yet—not the smug grin or brooding boredom. This is…genuine amusement. Dear lord, I’ve made him laugh.
“Instructor?” the girl calls out in her singsong voice. “I think the chain is still a little loose.”
Reid makes no move to leave. He only continues to stare at me, still and assessing.
I fight every urge to squirm under his brutal, ancient gaze. The desire to use any number of these weapons on him has not subsided. “Your groupie beckons.”
Another twitch of his lips. He pushes off the wall and returns to the eager student without another word. I can hear their hushed conversation about the integrity of the iron chain as my eyes travel over mounted muskets surely loaded with silver bullets.
“Careful around all that silver,” I warn as I round a shelf and arrive behind their workbench. “Wouldn’t want you to burn.”
Blondie sucks in quite the breath. Hand on her heart and everything. “Mr. Graveheart is the head combat instructor here, first year. You should mind your attitude.”
“What do they say?” I tap my lips in thought and watch as Reid’s eyes follow the motion. “ ‘If you can’t do, teach’?”
“Funny,” he says quietly, eyes back on the metalwork. “I don’t recall you being all that formidable.”
That fucker. “I wanted answers that night, not blood. I could slice you, gut to sternum, right here, even with my broken blade.”
Reid’s gaze lands on me, crackling with a furious heat. My breath hitches.
“Sorry.” The armorer, a plump, kind-eyed man, rounds the corner, welding mask on his head, thick rubber gloves in his grasp. “Was torching a claymore back there and didn’t hear y’all. How can I help?”
Reid, Blondie, and I stare at him until he swallows thickly.
“Feel free to show me at the end of the week, huntress,” Reid says evenly. “In the coliseum.”
I don’t allow myself to ask why I’ll see him there or to question why the thought makes my stomach plunge. His arm barely brushes my shoulder as he pushes past, and I get a whiff of that citrusy scent. My nose crinkles.
And then he’s gone. I take a breath, allowing my fists to unfurl. I fully lost my cool with him. This no-hunting thing is not going to be good for my mood swings. But if that monstrous, Brood-branded creep keeps trying to tell me how—
“Miss?” The armorer stares at my broken blade expectantly. “Hello?”