“I know.” He dipped down and pressed his mouth to hers again. They both groaned and pulled back at the same time. “I can’t seem to help myself.” The truth of that should bother him more than it did.
“Try.” When she pushed a bit harder, he immediately took a step back. There were many sins that could be laid at his feet, but forcing his attention on a woman would never be one of them.
“Should I apologize?” Would she admit to the attraction or deny it?
She pushed a thin braid away from her face. “Would you mean it?”
Since lying wasn’t an option, he shook his head. “No.”
“Didn’t think so.” She dropped her hands and gave a rueful laugh. “Not sure I’d believe you if you said you did.” Her hands dropped back to her sides. “Our … connection is already complicated enough without muddying the waters. We have to work together. You have your agenda and I have mine.”
Something neither of them could afford to forget. “We’re helping each other,” he reminded her. “We both get what we want.” And maybe when the mission was over, they could extend that to the bedroom.
“And then you’ll be gone.” Before he could speak, she held up her hand, silencing him. “You know it’s true. You have a life out there somewhere, wherever you came from. I have no idea where that is and am better off not knowing, for both our sakes.” She tilted her head back and stared at the ceiling. “I’ve never been off Zaxus. I have a brother to worry about. Not to mention other complications.”
Reman was one of those complications, but he wouldn’t be a problem for her by the time Zaxe left. He’d make sure of it.
“I’m not my mother. I won’t lower my guard, sleep with a man, and then pine for him for the rest of my life.” Her expression hardened. “I have too much respect for myself. You want an easy lay, there’s a house on the edge of the city. Everyone pretends it’s not there, but everyone knows about it. Go there. Those women could use the money.”
With a toss of her hair, she started past him. He caught her arm, making sure not to hold too tightly. “You’re not your mother. You’re strong and capable. That doesn’t mean you have to be alone.”
What was he doing? He didn’t know her, not really. And he had nothing to offer, no home of his own. Sure, he had money, amassed painstakingly over the years he’d been forced to work as an assassin, but that was all he had. By the hells of Melton, he couldn’t even give her his real name. Not now that he truly understood the full significance. It would only put her in more danger.
And that was something he had to talk to his sister about. That conversation would have to wait until he was somewhere secure. His communicator was encrypted, but he wasn’t about to take any chances. He’d spent too many years protecting his sister to do anything that might jeopardize her safety and happiness, no matter how small the odds of discovery.
“You offering to stick around?” When he hesitated, she gave him a sad smile. “Didn’t think so.” She pulled her arm away, went into her room, and shut the door, the quiet click more powerful than a laser cannon.
“Fuck.” He’d taken a step toward the door before he realized what he was doing and stopped. She was right. He had obligations elsewhere.
You could take her with you?
Ignoring the voice in his head, he silently walked to the window and edged the privacy screen over just a sliver. There was a man in the shadows across the street, his back to the wall his eyes on the building. Reman’s men had arrived.
He could kill them all and then go for Reman, eliminating the threat to Jamaeh. Or would it? Too many people had seen her with him, knew they’d gone to see Reman. The authorities would be more likely to blame her if anything went wrong.
Frustrated, he prowled around the room, all his senses attuned to the woman in the other room. What was she doing? There wasn’t any sound coming from in there.
He made his way around the space, running his fingers over the velvety fabric of the pillows stacked on the low sofa. They were soft, but nowhere near as soft as her skin. Her face was smooth, the light brown utterly flawless. Her hands told a much different story. There were calluses there.
He gathered the mugs and carried them into the kitchen. There was no dish cleaning unit, so he emptied them in the tiny sink and set them there. Open shelving above the counter held a small selection of dishes. What they lacked in quantity, they made up for in color and uniqueness.
Jamaeh valued quality over volume, surrounding herself with the beauty that her life outside these walls lacked. Another reason to kill Helldrick. The man had abandoned his daughter. And son. But Esau was nothing more than a name to him. Jamaeh was real.
The lock on the door was flimsier than he’d like, but he’d hear any attempt to enter. After making sure it was secure, he went into her brother’s room. This was where he lived and where Zaxe might get a read on him. Was he like Jamaeh, a victim of Helldrick’s neglect, or was he more like his father?
When he realized he was rubbing his lips, he cursed and dropped his hand. Her taste lingered there. Their kiss had only whetted his appetite. His body was still hard, yearning for her softness. His neck made a cracking sound when he rolled his head, but it did little to reduce the tension pressing down on him.
As promised, the room and bed were small. A freestanding wardrobe stood in one corner. A quick search of it turned up a few changes of clothing and some empty space, implying Esau had taken some of his belongings with him. That was a sign he’d gone willingly.
Had he known what he was getting himself into or was this one big adventure for him? Jamaeh might see herself as tough and worldly, but there was a … naivety wasn’t quite the right word. Neither was innocent. But she wasn’t hardened or jaded by the hardships of her life. Hopeful. That was it. She still believed she could mold the future into something good.
When had he lost that? When had it all become about survival and keeping his siblings alive? He’d become cynical, expecting the worst from people. Bound to happen considering the types he’d been around his entire life.
A shelf held a couple of books, one of them a volume of children’s tales. He plucked it from the shelf and thumbed through it. The cover was worn in places, but it was in surprisingly good shape. There were actually two inscriptions in the front. The oldest one read, To Jamaeh, from Mother. The slightly newer one was written in a different script, bolder than the ornate feminine script above. To Esau, love Jamaeh.
His chest tightened, his heart aching as he closed the cover and returned the book to its spot. Did Esau treasure the gift or had he kept it out of obligation? No way to know, but he had left it behind. For safekeeping or because he didn’t value it? Or had he expected to return? There was little here to tell him who Esau was, but it appeared he hadn’t been coerced into going with Helldrick.
Remaining dressed, Zaxe sprawled out on the bed. His feet hung over the bottom, but that didn’t concern him. He’d slept in worse places. Where he wanted to be was two doors down. Was Jamaeh sleeping? Was she thinking of him or had she already dismissed their kiss?
With a grunt, he turned onto his side, adjusting the weapons strapped to his body beneath his cloak so they didn’t dig in. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, bringing his body back under his command.