Darian's POV
"Are you going to keep staring at me, or are you going to come in?" she said, something like a tiny smile curled her lips, though her expression was a bit stern.
That broke me off whatever had just claimed me, trance, shock, or whatever. I dropped the doorknob, and I strolled into the room to her.
Instinctively and guided by the desire burning wild in my core, I reached for her. I retracted my hand fast, folding my fingers, as I realized the implication of that action.
But she'd already seen it. Her eyes followed the movement of my hands back to my side. "So the touching stuff is still happening, Darian," she asked matter-of-factly.
"Not exactly, my hands won't burn you again. Whatever caused what happened yesterday must have already worn off." I replied. I tried to say something else to shift the conversation to another frontier, but she stopped me by just spinning back from the mirror to me.
She stared at my hands and then at my face, and for some strange reason, I was more conscious of myself than I had ever been under those green jade eyes. I was like a kid staring up at his mother, fearing a rebuke.
Was it the mate bond making this happen? Or was it the fact that I desired her as I'd never desired any female before, or even anything? I would give my soul to that witch if it could guarantee I'd be able to touch my mate.
"If the problem doesn't exist any longer and has worn off, as you say," she folded her arms over her breasts, which by size were very generous, they'd almost dragged my eyes to themselves. And I'd been wise enough to pull my gaze away.
Otherwise, I was looking at more torture. I lazily wandered the room before throwing myself into the nearest sofa. I threw a wry grin up at her. "Do you want me to touch you, love? Because if you do, then I would."
"Don't call me love," she snapped, her eyes slightly red, temporarily forgetting about her inquisition.
I smiled secretly to myself, brushing my thumb over my lower lip. Women. They're predictable. Or so I thought, my grin swaped for a more cursory perusal at her expression, and I realized I had been entirely wrong.
"You don't need to touch me, Darian. I can do the—"
"You were great this morning," I said, changing the topic.
Her stare narrowed on me, brows pulled tight. I breathed a sigh when, luckily, the frown on her face shifted, and she muttered, rubbing her arms as she stood. "Thank you for your help. I don't think I would have been able to make that bastard scared without you."
I smiled, "You are welcome, mate."
Her lips pouted, and her expression suddenly changed. She looked like she was about to snap at me again for calling her mate, but just as fast as her features seemed to flare, they calmed.
She turned back, and I had a glimpse of the back of her long legs, my eyes following them carefully, swaying as they swayed, following each movement like every move they made was of global importance. She threw herself onto the bed, still hugging her arms, and I pried my eyes from her legs before she could notice.
I threw a smile up to her unsuspecting face. "So, where do I go from here. I know I sounded threatening to Sylas. But that bastard isn't going to hand over everything he stole just because of my threat."
"And that is where I come in, Love," I powered up my grin.
She shook her head. "No, this is my problem, so I have to figure it out myself."
"A problem shared is a problem solved they say. I added more flavour to my grin, should the previous one have gone bland. "I know ways by which to make the bastard so scared out of his wits that he returns everything he stole from you with interest. All you have to do is ask."
She tried to speak, and hesitated. Then she shifted to me, her gaze cursory and searching as they roamed me. "I am sorry I can't use your help until I know you are not simply lying to me, and you are telling me the truth."
I scoffed nervously. I knew where she was going with this. "Why would you even think I would lie about anything?"
"You are lying about the touch effect."
I scoffed again, more exaggerated than before. "And just why would I lie about that?"
She heaved her shoulders up. "I don't know, you tell me, you are the one keeping a secret, I am not. You know everything about me, and yet I don't seem to know anything about you."
"I am not keeping a secret love," I said, flattening my lips in a patronizing smile. "And you don't need to know about me, I promise you, contrary to popular opinion, love, I am not an interesting topic."
"That's just what someone who is keeping a secret would say. If you are not hiding a secret, then let me touch you."
"You don't need to," I fired back, perhaps with more rigor than I should have.
That seemed to spark some curiosity in her eyes. They narrowed more on me. My face almost flared up with fire at her stare. "Now I am definitely sure you are hiding something."
"I am hiding nothing, and you should forget—"
But she was already on her feet, moving fast for me. I could smell what she was about to do even from a mile away. Hell! Why is my mate just so stubborn?