Page 8 of Empire of Dark
Not that I minded, save for her wrecking one of my favorite suits. I liked a woman that knew how to fight. That could slam her boot into my stomach and send my balls tingling.
She moved from spot to spot in the room, her fingers constantly reaching out, touching. The edges of the furniture, the gold filigree of the clock atop the mantel, the bottom edge of the glass lamps, delicately across the lambs in the bottom left corner of the thousand-year-old tapestry, and then onto the backs of the porcelain lambs set atop the side table.
A tactile one. Needing to touch to think.
And she was thinking. Thinking hard.
I couldn’t read her thoughts from here, watching her through the one-way mirror I’d had installed in the Lamb drawing room.Too much distance, and by the set of her chin—slightly lowered and defiant—she was already erecting mental walls to keep me out.
“You told her I would dig into her mind?” I didn’t turn around to Triaten, my stare locked on the woman he’d brought me.
She was light on her feet. I saw that at the tavern, and in my drawing room she practically floated about the room. If I hadn’t seen what she was capable of in the tavern, I would have pegged her not as a fighter, but as a soft soul.
One to be sequestered away under full protection.
She wasn’t petite, but not overly tall. Lithe. Her breasts filling out the front of the casual black shirt she wore enough that it stretched the fabric and only by the grace of spandex did it sink back inward to wrap around her torso. Simple dark black jeans hugged her long legs. An odd piece of jewelry—a thick silver cuff—was clamped around her upper right arm, just above her elbow.
She hadn’t bothered to dress up for the occasion. Or maybe Triaten had plucked her out of whatever coffee shop she’d been hanging out in yesterday and brought her here.
She looked up, her eye catching the window, and she went over to it and peered out, shifting upward on her toes to gain angle to look downward. Perched there, she would be looking straight down into the chasm below. Her head started to bob, lolling in a circle until she dropped to her heels and took a step back.
Not a fan of heights.
Stepping away from the window, she took several steps and her chest lifted in a deep breath, sending her breasts swelling as she looked at the mirror. Her green eyes locked onto her reflection—locked onto me, like she knew someone was staring at her from the other side of the looking glass. I swallowed whenI saw her eyes fully. Extraordinary green eyes I’d never seen quite that shade of—the green of the newest clover—springtime packaged into her irises.
Green eyes that sank into my soul, even though she didn’t know I was watching her. A beauty, no doubt. Thick lashes lining those eyes. Delicate cheekbones that lent an air of refinement to her face. Full lips, the bottom one currently jutting upward and setting a calculating frown on her face. Light hair, blond with undertones of auburn streaks that she had half pulled back in a loose bun, while the lower lengths of her hair fell down along her back. The perfect length to wrap two, three times around my hand.
But those eyes. Those Emerald Isle irises were disconcerting.
And still staring at the mirror.
She was either extremely vain or she knew she was being watched through the mirror.
From behind me, Triaten answered my question. “I told her—she knows you have both empath and telepath abilities.”
“What else does she know?”
“Not much.” Triaten moved to the side bar inset within the bookcase that stretched the north wall of the library, filled with ancient tomes. His fingers perused the bottles lined against the back, finally selecting the Louis XIII Black Pearl cognac. Begrudging respect twisted in my gut. The man knew his brandy.
He poured himself two fingers and took a sip before turning toward me. “I told her little of you as I didn’t want her connecting to you in any way. The less she imagined about you, the better.”
That seemed right for what I knew of Triaten. Attempting to control something he would soon enough have no control over.
I glanced back at her through the mirror. “She is more appealing than I expected. A beauty—and I rarely call anyone abeauty. Really, I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve said that of a female in the last five years.”
Triaten’s lips twitched to the side before smoothing. He knew exactly what I was insinuating but didn’t take the bait. He pointed toward the mirror. “Did you expect less of her?”
My chin tilted down and I glared at him out of the corner of my eye. “You told me you were bringing a female named Maude.”
Triaten snickered. “I did.”
“That is not a Maude.”
He shrugged, sipping his drink. “The name did fall out of fashion in the last century, didn’t it?”
He was enjoying this, the bastard.
I spun fully toward him. “I honestly expected you to pay the debt with what would become a chore, not a delight.”