Chapter 29 #2
He gestures down to the very tight black tunic, but his movement is suppressed, and a noticeable ripping sound happens with the mere lift of his hand.
The sleeves strain around his arms, too small to be pulled down over his biceps, and the front is so snug that the ties at the collar are unable to be knotted shut, showing skin from neck to pec.
I force away the smile that wants to come out, and tilt my head. “Whatever do you mean?” I ask innocently.
Another growl erupts from his throat as he stalks closer. I press my lips together and stiffen as he stops in front of me. He props his hands on the back of the sofa and leans in close to my face, making my stomach dip with his nearness. “Don’t play me for a fool. I know you did this.”
My heart pounds, but I refuse to let it show. “I didn’t do anything,” I say with a shrug. “But it does look a bit . . . tight.”
It actually looks like his muscular torso is one inhale away from shredding right through the fabric, but tight is more succinct.
His eyes take on a dangerous glint. “This was my favorite tunic.”
I click my tongue. “Shame. Perhaps your bulging ego has filled you out.”
There’s a pause, and then a dark chuckle escapes his lips with a flash of teeth. The sound of his laughter shocks me, while the look in his eye fills me with a familiar thrill. The one I get when I go against him. This wicked push and pull that makes my pulse race.
“I had no idea you were so concerned with my bulges.”
Heat brands my cheeks, but I shrug. “I told you I had to figure out how to keep myself busy. One has to pass the time somehow.”
“You will be fixing every single piece of clothing you took in.”
“Can’t. I accidentally lost the needle and thread.”
“Lost?”
“Your rooms are very big. Things get lost all the time, I imagine.”
And I did lose the needle. Somewhere in his pillow.
I’m sure he’ll find it soon enough.
The corner of his eye twitches with irritation, and I bite my lip to keep from laughing. As soon as I do, his attention locks on to the movement, settling on my mouth.
His expression morphs then, to something . . . riveted.
My breath glues to the back of my throat. Fuzzy warmth spreads from my chest. Fates, maybe I shouldn’t have altered that tunic so much. The fabric clings to his every muscle, leaving nothing to the imagination. He’s all smooth, sculpted skin of pure strength.
A knock sounds at the door then, and the moment snaps. He tears his gaze away, and I let out a shuddering breath as the Piper straightens and calls for whoever it is to enter.
Lacera steps into the sitting room, wearing a pretty green dress with a split up the middle to show a pair of formfitting trousers beneath. Her fingers fiddle with the elegant silk veillet swooping over her left shoulder where the ends of her thick brown hair spill out.
“Are you ready? Everyone’s there and—” Her words halt alongside her feet the moment she spots me. She looks from me to the Piper with a deepening frown. “What is she still doing in your rooms?”
Good question.
The Piper ignores her, his expression gone stony as he turns and heads back into his bedroom. I hear a muffled curse, and Lacera frowns. When he comes back in, he’s clad in a sleeveless jerkin, no tunic in sight, though at least the jerkin actually fits. I hadn’t gotten around to those yet.
He quickly does up the laces at the collar, the stitches tightening until the skin of his chest is hidden from view.
“You’re wearing that? Without a tunic underneath?” Lacera asks him, her nose wrinkling.
“Apparently.”
“Okay . . . but why isn’t the fiend with the others? She’s no longer in danger of fever, is she?”
“No, she’s healing.”
“Then why?”
When he doesn’t answer, she reaches out and grips his arm, but he shrugs her off. The look on her face is both confused and hurt. “Varrik, this is . . . Don’t blur the lines.”
He flings an angry glare at her. “I make the fucking lines.” His words are so abrupt, so scalding, that Lacera rears back in surprise. I do too.
“You’re not making sense,” she tells him with a shake of her head, her hazel eyes wounded.
“I’m just making sure she stays put. She’s a flight risk.”
Her tone turns dubious. “With a ripped-open back?”
The Piper glances pointedly at the boarded window. “Surprisingly, yes.”
She follows his gaze and then frowns. “Well . . . she can’t get away with the other fiends. They’re under constant watch, and there are even more guards assigned there now since we just brought in the others.”
My gaze flies to his face. “Wait. Others?”
The muscle in his jaw jumps, and he flashes Lacera an aggravated look. My stomach drops.
“That’s why you were gone?” I ask, and I hate that my voice sounds so thin. So hurt. “You stole more fiends?”
“Collected,” he growls.
I shake my head in disbelief. In crushing disappointment. When I noticed his cloak was missing, I hoped it only meant he’d gone away from the castle. But this confirms my fear.
Despondency wraps around my throat and pulses down to my fingertips. “How could you?”