“You did good work. A bit too much. Take it easier next time.”
“I’m alright. I was in the zone, actually. It felt good.”
“No more zones for you. Not if you’re going to neglect yourself while in them.”
She grinned, gesturing at him with her water pouch. “Aren’t you supposed to be some big, scary slum soldier or something?”
“Slum soldier?” One of his spiky brows popped.
“Since when do those types bother with self-care?”
He caught her chin in hand, lifting her head up and back. Giving himself a good look at her as he stared down from above with a gaze that made her shiver in the best way.
“Slum soldier?” He repeated, his tone somewhere between amused and curious.
“Is that not what you were? A street tough? A bad mama jama?”
“You’re speaking nonsense now.”
Garnet chuckled, reaching out to touch him. Her fingers pressed against his thigh, dangerously close to that bulge in his pants. But he didn’t try to step away from her.
“Is that not what you were?” She asked, grinning despite the topic.
“I wouldn’t have called myself any of those things.”
“Oh? What would you have called yourself?”
He cocked his head back. Red eyes flashing in the light. Still holding her chin. Commanding the very air around her so that it almost seemed hard to breathe. He smelled so fresh and clean, with just a hint of metal. But she kind of loved it.
“I wouldn’t have called myself anything,” he said simply. “And no one would have dared speak my name.”
Another shiver went through her. He spoke like it was supposed to be a threat, but she found herself leaning closer. How sick was she that she was attracted to this?
This wasn’t pretend. This wasn’t boasting. There was danger in those crimson eyes. The fact that he was so controlled and careful and so adherent to his personal rules spoke to an iron will. The kind that only had to be forged if there was something dangerous it was containing.
It was something dark and disturbingly civilized. There wasn’t anything wild or primal about it. Brutal sure; violent, maybe. But for it to be wild, it had to have some sense of innocence. There was no maliciousness in the primal actions of the untamed.
No. Tanin had never made a choice he didn’t carefully consider and plan first. If there was violence, it was calculated. He acted not just with aggression, but intention. If he decided to kill you, it wasn’t a decision made in passion at the heat of the moment. And you weren’t going to get away. Your death had been signed as surely as if a judge ordered your execution.
It should have driven her away from this guy. It should have scared her off.
But she didn’t just see that violence and darkness. She saw the framework of control he’d built around it. This life he lived might not have been glamorous, but it was one he’d fought for. One he’d built that ironwork of will to keep.
“Tell me who you were,” Garnet whispered, almost begging.
She wanted to know this male. She needed to hear about his past. However dirty, wrong, or criminal it might have been. She needed to know him more. She needed to know not only where that metal framework came from, but the monster it was built to contain.
Tanin’s expression tightened, and he pulled back, releasing her. Stepping from her touch. Putting distance between them that cut like a knife.
“You don’t need to know that.”
“But I want to.” She stood, setting the water pouch down on her now empty seat. Trying to get closer even as he took another step back.
“You don’t,” he said simply. “Besides, even if you do, what does it matter? My past is behind me. It’s pointless to bring it up.”
Garnet cocked her head. “That’s dumb.”
He frowned, brow furrowing. “What?”
