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Soren stood with the grimoire tucked under his arm. “Now that you know the book was not stolen, and that your son was relieved, rather than disposed of, I’ll be going.” He paced toward the tent flaps before eyeing Thessa over his shoulder. “Are you coming?”
She skittered behind him.
No more than three steps outside he whirled around to face her. “Why are you wearing that?”
She loved the dress. “You don’t like it?”
“I can’t think with your shoulders that bare.”
“Oh.”
A moment later he threatened to rip it off entirely.
Thessa’s eyes widened. “You’ll do no such thing.”
“Then I suggest you get inside my tent, and fast.”
“What?”
Soren flashed his magic and purred, “Run,” as several serpents slithered toward her.
Is he mad?
Heart racing, she took off.
The tour around camp had proved itself useful; the lane system they used was easy to navigate. She dodged the children whisking past her, ignored the curious glances from strangers, and stumbled inside Soren’s tent. She took in the thick rugs, overstock of candles, rolled up maps, and fresh-cut table as she caught her breath; it was a tent fit for a general.
Soren fled in a moment later, grabbing her from behind. “You’re faster than you look.”
She squealed in his grip.
He loosened, but only enough to toss the grimoire and spin her around. His arms draped around her low back, pulling her closer.
She traced her finger along his chest. “What’s all this about?”
Soren growled. “You.”
She rubbed her lips together, then smiled.
He angled his head. “You look different when you do that.”
“Do what?”
“Smile.”
“You don’t prefer my usual face?”
He huffed a laugh. “Ipreferwhen your eyes light up.”
She blushed, drawing her head down.
One of his knuckles found her chin, pulling it right back up. Thessa flicked her gaze to meet his. She felt weak, tingly even. “I haven’t felt like this around anyone since my ex,” she admitted.
Why am I bringing up my ex right now?
Soren backed away a little.
Thessa shook her head as an apology formed on her lips.