Chapter Four - Thomas
‘He’s crazy .’
Rain batters against the windows as the train rushes across steel tracks, but it’s the broken glass crunching under my shoes that’s deafening.
I’m glaring at the madman who threw me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing, considering we’re nearly the same height and build—him broader—it’s both insulting and annoyingly impressive.
“So, tea?” he prompts.
“If you think I’m going to get tea with you, then you’ve absolutely lost your mind,” I bite out between gritted teeth, the back of my neck hot at the blatant hunger in his pale-grey gaze, roaming over me from head to toe.
A cocky smile spreads across his supple lips. Not that I notice or care. I also don’t notice he’s got a single dimple pressed into his right cheek, making him look almost boyish even with the sharp lines of his jaw.
“When looking at your pretty face…” His unapologetic stare glides up the full length of my body to lock onto my glare. “How could I not?”
I raise a single, unimpressed eyebrow. “Has that line ever worked?”
He tosses me a ridiculous wink, the profile of his stupid chiselled jaw and strong nose sharpened when lightning flashes. “First time for everything.”
“Not this time, so your streak continues.”
His smile grows, causing my heart to skip a beat.
But while I can begrudgingly admit my kidnapper is handsome, I refuse to get distracted by his reddish-brown hair falling in messy tufts.
Or that his shaved sides are decorated with intricate blue tattoos that snake down under his neck, hiding under a tan leather and fur jacket…
“I’m not so sure about that,” he adds, his voice playful, even though his accent—Slavic, maybe, Northern European definitely—and deep baritone could easily make it something serious and inflexible.
I look away from his maddeningly toned neck to find a knowing smirk slapped across his obnoxious face. He hasn’t tried to close the distance between us, and yet every time he speaks, his words make me want to edge a bit closer…
“Would you shut up. The more important issue is…well…” I gesture behind him. “The dead…man? Leopard? Thing?”
I swallow, bracing myself as I tilt to peer over the strange man’s shoulder, dread cooling me. I don’t really want to see anything again; the thought alone has my stomach churning, but surely I can be brave enough to confirm what happened?
But it doesn’t matter which way I tilt my head, the infuriating man moves with me, his grin in place and blocking my view of the…
A chill creeps down my spine, and I place my feet firmly on the ground. Maybe seeing doesn’t mean believing. The awful snap of a neck breaking was proof enough.
“He was a leopard shifter, a supernatural creature. But the fucker is dead now, so don’t think about it,” he says, shrugging.
“How can you not think about this?” I ask, wrapping my arms around myself. Suddenly feeling very tired. “We need to report this to…to the police!”
His eyes dance with laughter. “The police? Think about how that conversation would go.”
I chew on my bottom lip, realising that he’s right and no one would believe me. I don’t even believe meself. “Why was he after you, anyway?”
“Ketill.”
I glance to my left and right, as if confirming with my reflections in the dark windows that I heard right. “You…you have his kettle?”
He lets out a laugh, deep, husky and way too inviting. He could be mocking me, but the easy way he throws his head back has me fighting back a smile.
“My name, treasure, is Ketill.” He takes a step closer. I should be scared, I should want to run away—I don’t want either. Instead of questioning myself, I fix him with a hard stare. Which only seems to delight him further. “Now, tell me yours.”
Maybe if we were anywhere else, I’d be charmed by the way his single dimple makes him both endearingly cheeky and unpredictably exciting. But here is exactly where I find myself. So, lacking in information, I go off the only tool I have at my disposal—my mind.
History and folklore often coincide, and I’ve studied enough books on myth to know that offering names to magical beings never ends well for unlucky humans. So I’d rather be an overly cautious fool with sealed lips than a fool tricked by some fae prince.
Not that I think Ketill is a prince.
More like a dangerous rogue…
Either way, I keep my lips sealed and my glare unwavering.
Ketill’s grin melts into something softer, more genuine. “Let’s get you that cup of tea.”
“Fine,” I huff after a beat. “But I expect you to explain everything, Ketill.”
“Damn. Say my name again,” he insists, eyes sharpening and leaning forward.
“Absolutely not,” I rush out, even if a part of me wants to, just to see what Ketill would do. And a bigger part is jealous of the single raindrop that’s rolled from his wet hair to rest on the curve of his lip.
“Go on,” he urges, moving closer so he can throw his arm around my tight shoulders. “Pretty please.”
“Do you not understand the English language?” I spit while he manoeuvres us down the corridor, his hand sneaking under my jaw to keep our eyes locked—the connection a shock, but also anchoring in a way that scrambles my brain.
“If I say ‘no’, will you teach me?” he wiggles his eyebrows. I puff out an annoyed noise. “I’m a very good student.”
“That I find hard to believe.”
“True, but depending on the subject, I can rise to the occasion.” Ketill’s finger strokes the sensitive skin under my chin, his voice dropping. “Then I’m very, very, good.”
“You’re ridiculous.” I let loose a long-suffering sigh like we’ve had this back and forth for years instead of minutes.
“Now I’m wondering if you know English. It’s pronounced ‘handsome’.”
It isn’t until he’s opening a divider door for us to slip into another carriage that I realise Ketill’s antics kept me so distracted that I couldn’t check on the body.
“Shouldn’t we alert someone about the…?” I ask, worried. Trying to look behind us, but Ketill slides the door closed.
“Are you in love with me yet?”
A disbelieving laugh bursts from my chest. “You never quit, do you?” I say, shoving his arm off as we head towards the dining area.
Beside me, Ketill chuckles.
“There is no chance I’m falling in love with an unhinged stranger who crashed through my window on a moving train.”
“Who doesn’t enjoy a good thrill?” he declares, knocking his shoulder against mine. “I’m also extremely charming.”
“Absolutely not. No way.” I level him with a deadpan look. “That’ll never happen.”
His cocky smirk doesn’t budge when he drawls, “Just you wait…”
I force my gaze from his absurdly symmetrical face and find that we’ve made it to the dining carriage. Unlike the corridor lit by a low, warm glow, this area is dark. Probably to signal they’re not serving at this time.
Ketill ignores all this and pulls out a chair at a small table with an exaggerated flourish of his hand. After a beat, I plop onto the seat, Ketill pushing me in.
He then strolls towards where customers order food and drinks, and hops over the countertop with the grace and confidence of someone who regularly disregards the rules.
“Should you be doing that?”
Ketill sets his elbows on the sandy marble top, propping his chin on his fists and looks at me like I’m a puppy. “You’re such a goody two-shoes.”
The back of my neck heats. I’ve been called that before, but hearing it from Ketill stings, maybe because he’s handsome and laughs in the face of danger. Maybe because I’m taking his flirting a little too seriously…
“It’s cute.”
“I’m not c-cute!” I retort, my neck now sweating.
“You are very cute.” Ketill turns away, looking through the bottles of alcohol behind him.
“I haven’t been cute since I was a child.”
Ketill vanishes behind the bar. Moments later, he shoots back up with a triumphant ‘aha!’, waving a bottle of iced tea. “You’re right.”
“Thank you,” I sniff. Slightly disappointed until he opens his mouth again.
“You’re gorgeous.” And he jumps back over the countertop.
Flustered, I blurt out the only thing that comes to mind, “You really should pay for that.”
Ketill’s grin widens as he saunters closer, looking like he’s having the time of his life.
“Treasure, you really are a goody two-shoes,” he proclaims, voice laced with sweetness and heat.
I snatch the bottle of iced tea from him and glare out the dark window.
“Maybe I do need someone to teach me how to be good…” Ketill’s low voice edges closer until the warmth of his breath trickles down my neck. I’m so surprised I can’t hold back my shiver. “And I’ll teach that someone how to be bad.”
My head snaps around to find his face barely an inch from mine. Blood rushes to my ears, and I push him away. “That…That’s completely inappropriate!”
Ketill chuckles, slipping into the chair opposite. Needing something to do, I unscrew my drink and down a mouthful. It’s lukewarm and not very flavourful, but when I’ve gulped down half, I don’t feel so overwhelmed.
“You didn’t tell me your name,” he points out.
I fiddle with screwing the bottle cap back on. “What if I give you my name and you…do nefarious things with it?”
He leans forward, forearms on the table. “The only nefarious thing I’d do with your name is shout it as I’m cum—”
“Enough, enough! I get the bloody point. God, you’re a terrible flirt.”
Ketill winks. It shouldn’t work…
I hate that it makes heat rise in my cheeks. “Tell me why you were being chased. I deserve to know since I’ve been dragged along this ride.”
The corner of his lip twitches at the word ‘ride’, and I level him with a withering stare.
He laughs and sprawls into the chair, his legs wide. “The shifters stole something, and I stole it back.”
“Oh, so…you’re doing something good then?”
Ketill thinks about it, then tilts his hand from side to side in a ‘50/50’ gesture.
My shoulders drop. “That isn’t very reassuring.”
“I’m multifaceted,” comes his smooth reply.
“I’m surprised you know such a big word,” I respond, biting back a smile.
His voice drops an octave as he says, “I know a lot about big things.”