“But you will not be safe with me,” he finally answered, watching as her eyes rounded at his statement.
Lash smirked.
“That sounds like a wicked thing to say.”
His smile vanished. Did she have to infuse such a note of sensuality into her voice? Almost as if she wanted to be alone with him and wished for it to be wicked?
He spun away from her, balling his hands into fists. “Gadje Gadjensa, Rom Romensa,”he muttered under his breath, reminding himself of their respective places in the world.
“What does that mean?” she asked, her rustling skirts alerting him to her sudden proximity.
He sidestepped her and resumed rubbing down Bach. “It means,Gadjowithgadjo, RomwithRom.”
“And bygadjo,you mean us, I presume?”
Lash gave a curt nod. “Not of our blood.”
“Does that mean you are not allowed to consort with someonenot of your blood? Because you are staying with us, and we shared a kiss.”
He spun back to her, pinning her with an unyielding look. The mere mention of their kiss set his body ablaze. “You are brazen for a lady.”
“Aye, I am,” she said pertly. “A useful trait when living with a brood of Highland men.”
He shrugged. “I hardly recall the kiss.”
“Liar, it must have been some kiss for a man to swoon directly after. Unforgettable, even.”
“I did not swoon, I collapsed from overexerting myself.”
She arched a brow, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Will you get into trouble for kissing me, me being not of your blood, and all that?”
Lash swallowed. He swore he burned from the heat of her body lapping up at him like dozen little flames. There was nogettinginto trouble; he was already knee deep in it.
He stepped away from her disorienting nearness, her bewitching scent. “The Rom would say your kiss tainted me.”
“I beg your pardon?” She sounded so offended, Lash almost laughed.
“Do not take offense,” Lash said. “There are Rom who believe merely crossing paths with agadjorenders you unclean, so they avoid them at any cost.”
“What nonsense.” Her eyes narrowed on him. “There are more of us than there are of you.”
“True, but for the most partgadjoscluster in cities, while Rom prefer the wild.”
“Do you believe crossing paths with me, kissing me, tainted you?” she asked.
God help him, but he did not.
Ever since he was old enough to remember he had felt like he did not quite fit. Not with his tribe. Not anywhere else. Like a tiger trapped in a circus act.
As a child, he’d shrugged it off as the result of belonging to a cruel family and wishing he’d been born into another. A family that prided kindness as strength—not weakness. A family that loved rather than loathed. Built, rather than destroyed.
But even after leaving the only life he’d ever known behind, that feeling had never parted with him. It’d still clung to him like a layer of second skin.
Until Honoria. With her sweet smile and innocent eyes, she had seeped into his bones and replaced that schism with one of belonging.
She felt like home.
Lash sighed, drawing his fingers through his hair before meeting her eyes. “I ammarime—an outcast—and therefore already considered impure and unworthy to my kind. But as a Rom without a tribe, I answer to no one but myself.”
