The man before her certainly kept her on her toes, that was for sure. He threw her off balance with an ease that no one but her father had ever been able to achieve.
He was gorgeous and tragic and dangerous and everything the angry daughter of a wealthy man could ask for when it came to flipping her father and family legacy the bird—everything she might have conjured up for herself, late at night in her room as a young girl, as yet powerless to stand up to her autocratic parent.
But she wasn’t that girl anymore, and while this thrilling man and his thrilling and indecent proposal were a temptation the likes of which her thrill-seeking heart might have leaped at earlier in her life, she had grown into the kind of woman that realized her responsibilities were more important than her desires. And if she was tempted in a way a part of her was ashamed of, she could at least find comfort in the truth of that fact, because she certainly wasn’t finding it in the words she had to say.
“I can’t,” she said, though her mouth fought the words the whole time.
He smiled, and the smile was as entrancing as her first look at him had been. She had never had this reaction to another human. Yes, she had been wild and reckless in her youth, but it had all been for show. She hadn’t been attracted to anyone she’d made sure to be photographed with, just like she’d never actually gone out with any of them. Though the scandal had suited her narrative, the reality had been the obvious truth: she had been too young for that kind of thing.
Later, in the Volunteer Corps and later in the military academy, she had been too busy for it. And then she had been a royal guard and her job made it too risky. Then her father had died and her vow had put an end to even thinking about it. Until this shockingly magnetic man had dropped into her world out of the sky and brought desire to the forefront after it was far too late to do anything about it.
For the first time since she’d made it, she regretted her vow. Not the actual making of it—that she stood by—and not because she wanted to take it back, but because she’d had no idea what she’d been giving up when she had. Promises made in ignorance required keeping no less than those made in full knowledge, but if she’d known men like him existed in the world...
His voice was its own lure, warm like an embrace, confident in its assuredness that it could change her mind. “Of course you can’t. It isn’t done. You don’t know me. What would people think...? But ignore that, ignore them. Think instead of what your father would think. Think about how angr—”
As much as she loved to imagine her father angry, she held up her hand to stop him where he was. “I can’t,” she repeated, her voice low and earnest. “I can’t, because when I went to him as he lay dying, I looked him in his eye and swore to him that the d’Tierrza line would end with me, that there would be no d’Tierrza children to inherit the lands or title and that I would see to it that the family name was wiped from the face of the earth so that everything he had ever worked for, or cared about, was lost to history, the legacy he cared so much about nothing but dust. I swore to him that I would never marry and never have children, that not a trace of his legacy would be left on this planet.”
For a moment, there was a pause, as if the room itself had sucked in a hiss of irritation. The muscles in his neck tensed, then flexed, though he remained otherwise motionless. He blinked as if in slow motion, the movement a sigh, carrying something much deeper than frustration, though no sound came out. Hel’s chest squeezed as she merely observed him. She felt like she’d let him down in some monumental way though they’d only just become reacquainted. She struggled to understand why the sensation was so familiar until she recognized the experience of being in the presence of her father.
Then he opened his eyes again, and instead of the cold green disdain her heart expected, they still burned that fascinating warm brown—a heat that was a steady home fire, as comforting as the imaginary family she’d dreamed up as a child—and all of the taut disappointment in the air was gone.
Her vow was a hiccup in his plans. That he had a low tolerance for hiccups was becoming clear. How she knew any of this when he had revealed so little in his reaction, and her mind only now offered up hazy memories of him as a young man, she didn’t know.
She offered a shrug and an airy laugh in consolation, mildly embarrassed about the whole thing though she was simultaneously unsure as to exactly why. “Otherwise, you know, I’d be all in. Despite the whole abduction...” Her cheeks were hot, likely bright pink, but it couldn’t be helped so she made the joke, anyway, despite the risk that it might bring his eyes to her face, that it might mean their eyes locked again and he stole her breath again.
Of course, that is what happened. And then there was that smile again, the one that said he knew all about the strange mesmerizing power he had over her, and it pleased him.
Whether he was the kind of man who used his power for good or evil had yet to be determined.
Either way, beneath that infuriating smile, deep in his endless brown eyes, was the sharp attunement of a predator locked on its target. “Give me a week.” His face may not have changed, but his voice gave him away, a trace of hoarseness, as if his sails had been slashed and the wind slipped through them, threaded it, a strange hint of something Hel might have described as desperation...if it had come from anyone other than him.
“What?” she asked.
“Give me a week to change your mind.”
Hel’s sympathy dried up like a desert pool. She shook her head. “No, thank you. I’m pretty set on this. And while I appreciate the seriousness, as well as the lack of intention, you did kidnap me...”
He laughed, and the sound of it eased some of the tightness in her chest. She brought a hand to the spot in the center of her breastbone, where the sensation seemed to coalesce, and rubbed as he continued, his eyes sharp on her every movement. “Give me seven days to bring you around to my plan. We want the same thing, in the end. Let me convince you.”
Hel snorted. They didn’t exactly want the same thing. He wanted revenge. She wanted eradication. But she didn’t say that. Instead, she asked, “And if you can’t? What do I get?”
His eyes lit, voice picking up a charge as he said with a shrug, “I bring you back home, forgiven—no harm, no foul. You did your part to right the wrong.”
She sucked in a little breath, the only outward sign of the allure of that promise. But, clearing her mind, she shook her head and said, “My job prevents things being that simple.”
He chuckled. “It’s not just your job.”
Hel smiled. “Agreed. My absence is likely already rather visible.”
He nodded sagely and she almost laughed.
“Now, and I know this is rather unconventional, “ he began, “but, seeing as how you are already ‘kidnapped,’ my suggestion would be to keep things simple and just remain so.”
Now Hel did laugh. A lot.
Shaking her head, she wiped at the tears that escaped from the corners of her eyes. When she had collected herself, she said, “So you’re suggesting I take this as an enforced holiday, if you will?”
He gave a single, firm, grave nod in response and another chuckle bubbled out of her.