“I see.”
He comes to a stop beside the table. “You don’t believe me.” I hate how it’s not phrased as a question. He seems to know my thoughts.
“I don’t know what I can and can’t believe when it comes to you,” I murmur.
“When will you accept that I can’t lie to you, even if I wanted to? And this might come as a surprise, but I don’t want to.” He looks at me through his lashes, face still downcast toward the weapons on the table. His hair hangs between us like a veil. Like armor protecting us both in the prodding of the other. Old gods forbid what we might find if we probed too deeply with this bond connecting us.
“Can I help you with something?” I motion to the weapons, putting the topic of sunlight to rest. So much for plotting to “accidentally” rip off the curtains.
“I should think it obvious that I’m going to inspect your work.” Ruvan checks the leather guards I carefully replaced on each of the hilts—an extra layer of protection between the vampire’s flesh and the silver. “I’m not going to allow you to attempt to find a loophole in the words of our bloodsworn. Some kind of way where you do not deal the killing blow but a faulty weapon does.”
“I can do that?” I blurt.
“No, so you shouldn’t look so hopeful.” He chuckles, though it sounds somewhat sad. “Ventos would be after me again if I didn’t double-check everything. Not having to deal with his griping is my real motivation.”
I purse my lips. “I didn’t do anything to sabotage any of you. Your weapons are twice as good as when you brought them here.” I brush past him, going to leave.
“I can see that. Thank you, Riane.” It’s so odd to hear sincere gratitude from a vampire.
I stop, looking back at him. I’ve never spent this much time alone with any man, save for Drew, and time with my brother is vastly different. Every other time I’ve been in such close quarters with a man they’ve either been too nervous to speak, eager to get away from me as quickly as possible so they don’t get in trouble, or they see me as a conquest, something to aspire to. A forbidden fruit they’re eager to pluck. Ruvan doesn’t seem to want anything from me. And I don’t seem to make him nervous in the slightest.
Maybe this is what it is like to be just a woman, with just a man. Though nothing about either of us is “just” anything.
“If we’re going to face danger, it helps me also to make sure you are all at your best,” I say finally.
“That is very true. I had hoped you saw it that way.”
“I really couldn’t have sabotaged the weapons?” I ask without meeting his eyes. “Not that I did, or even tried.” Guilt floods me. I was so lost to the forge that I didn’t even think about trying to find a way to kill the vampires for the whole night.
“You could’ve tried. But you would be compelled to tell us what you did before it would harm us. That urge would grow greater and greater, becoming unbearable the moment before we would be harmed by your action.”
“Wonderful,” I remark dryly.
“Be grateful for the terms of our oath; it means we’re both guaranteed safety.”
“Vampires and safety, something I still have a hard time even thinking could go together.”
“Vampir,” he tries to correct yet again. Ruvan takes a step closer and I don’t move away. We stand toe-to-toe. He searches me without a touch. I can almost feel the faint caress of magic running down my shoulders and arms. “You really think you could never be safe around me?”
“You are my sworn enemy.” My voice has fallen to a whisper without my bidding.
“But what if it didn’t have to be that way?”
The question begs an answer, one I don’t have. Not because I want to dodge it…but because I’ve never given how things would look if they were different genuine thought beyond childhood musings. However, since I’ve been here, the question seems to return relentlessly.
What would I want? A forge, I think. It’s in my blood. It’s who I am. But what would I make if not sickles and armor? Where would it be if it could be anywhere?
What would Ruvan want beyond his fae courts, songs, and great plains? Do I care to know? Dangerous. Forbidden. I might.
“Why do you care about what I think of you so much?” I can’t help but ask. Even though there’s a small part of me that wants to ask what he thinks of me.
I can feel him withdrawing slightly. I’ve put him on the spot. His hand twitches as though he’s about to reach for me, but he doesn’t.
“I have lived my life surrounded by creatures that want to kill me.” His voice is soft and on the verge of breaking. “Perhaps, in you, is a strange sort of redemption—hope, that if I can turn a hunter into an ally, then ending this curse should be a trivial matter by comparison.”
“I will never be your ally.”
He moves lightning fast. His fingers are wrapped around my chin, thumb nearly touching my lips. I flinch. I have never been so focused on a touch so delicate. So light it hardly exists at all.