Home > Bulletproof Damsel (Urban Fantasy Romance Series Book 1)(27)

Bulletproof Damsel (Urban Fantasy Romance Series Book 1)(27)
Author: Amelia Hutchins

“And you’re wearing next to nothing. Why?” Rhys asked, turning to toss an irritated look at the knights and his brothers. There was a crowd gathering, slowly moving to sit around the table.

“Because the room is too hot for clothes,” I admitted, shrugging. “I can’t wear a bra because the wire would cause damage, and I prefer underwire bras or nothing else. Does my lack of clothing bother you?” I asked, lifting a brow with the question, crossing my arms over my chest, studying the tick in his jaw.

“You’re wearing a tank top that is showing off those perky nipples that I want to suck on. Your shorts, if you can even call them that, expose every curve of that tight little body, leaving very little to the imagination. It’s making me want to bend you over the nearest hard surface, spread those tight thighs apart, and fuck you hard. So, yes, Remington, your lack of dress is bothering me.” His gaze scorched a trail over my exposed flesh, leaving me in a smoldering pile of ashes at his feet.

“Yeah, so that happened, and it was hot!” Nyx announced, licking her lips as she hiked a thumb toward Rhys. “You need to say yes.”

“He wasn’t asking,” I argued, still holding Rhys’s heated stare.

“My word, Remi,” she chuckled, patting my cheek. “You’re so clueless it both hurts and endears you to me immensely. When a man says your lack of clothing makes him want to bend you over, that’s an invitation because he wants to do it, telling you about it in explicit detail. If he’s saying that, he’s literally imagined it in his mind a few times. So the word you’re looking for is oh, hell, yes.”

“That’s three words.”

“Point in case, I just drew you a map with crayons, and you’re worried about how many words I used!”

“I have to make a sword, and my brain is trying to focus on that at the moment!” I gritted out. I was trying to concentrate on the steps to make Rhys a sword that would knock his ego down a few pegs.

“He is offering you his sword!” Nyx argued, staring at me with a pointed look dancing in her eyes.

My attention turned, narrowing on Rhys, who was watching us argue about his so-called offer. His gaze dipped to my mouth where my teeth worried the plump bottom lip, and I imagined him moving to the table, bending me over it, and doing what he’d stated he would. A soft moan slipped past my lips, and I rolled my eyes for falling for Nyx’s overactive imagination.

“You just imagined him naked, fucking you! Oh,” she said, bouncing from foot to foot. “You’re growing up! My little girl is growing up! I couldn’t be more proud if you started making porn!”

My jaw dropped, and I shook my head, snapping myself back to reality. “That escalated quickly.”

“I went too far with the porn, didn’t I? I mean, it’s not like I think you should videotape it. At least not until you’re sure he won’t put it online. I have so many videos, but I mean, people know who I am, and that’s not bragging. Yeah, a few need to see certain parts before they believe it is me, but hey, a girl has to eat, after all. Right?” She took in my horrified expression and snorted. “Yeah, I lost you again, didn’t I?”

I rubbed my temples before counting to ten. “Let’s just begin, shall we?” I asked, not sure I ever wanted to look online again in my lifetime. There were just certain parts of your best friend you didn’t want to see, ever. “I will try not to take too long, but I do take pride in my work. Swords are a lot more work than arrows, arrowheads, or bullets. I don’t half-ass anything, Van Helsing. Also, no one should try to enter the room until I’ve hit the last cooling phase.”

I stepped into the room, closing it behind me, moving to the thermostat, and cranking it up to five-hundred degrees. Nyx started the timer, knocking her knuckles against the glass before I nodded, tying my hair up, preparing to work.

I grabbed the bars of metal, weighing each one before tossing them into the cauldron on the glowing coals. Sweat beaded on my neck, running down my temples as I peered up at the thermostat. My gaze swung to Nyx, who was watching me, her eyes slightly widening at the sight of sweat.

“Adjust it by forty minutes,” I said before grabbing the body patch that kept track of my temperature to slap it over my shoulder.

Rhys had a top-notch metalsmith room that was about to kick my ass. I placed the mold on the table before me, grabbing the cauldron without gloves or protection, and dumped the contents of the melted metals into the blade mold. Once I finished pouring, I set the cauldron down, pushing my bare hands into the ice-cold water set beside the table. I turned to gauge Rhys’s response outside the room. His eyes were locked on my hands as if expecting them to be charred.

After a few moments had passed, I poured cold water over the mold to solidify the metal. The hiss of steam comforted my mind, soothing over me as a soft smile played on my mouth. I loved creating weapons, but Winchester had warned me several times not to make anything other than ammo. Though, she had never told me why or what was so dangerous about the process.

Next, I pulled the glowing red blade from the fire and carefully placed it into the water, looking over the shape. I pulled it out quickly, and set it back onto the coals to keep the metal at the heated temperature I needed, placing it on a long table, grabbing the hammer beside me. I started shaping the sword slowly, pounding the hammer against it as sweat dripped down my face, sizzling against the glowing metal. I beat it slowly, forcing it into the correct shape, solidifying the metal together.

Once the metal became too hard, I placed it back into the forge and hummed with magic, slowly holding my hands over the blade to enhance its strength. Silently, I added detailed runes, slowly etching them into the dragons I engraved over the blade. As an extra touch, I added the Van Helsing crest on the chest of the dragons. Rhys’s name sat on the other side of the sword, written in old lettering that enhanced the weapon’s overall look.

I repeated the steps until I was satisfied with my creation. Moving to the thermostat, I turned the temperature down, spinning on my heel to stand near the glass wall where Nyx waited. Her lips turned up as she and I began to do jumping jacks, her eyes never leaving mine, laser-focused as the room started dropping in temperature at a dangerous speed.

My forge had been built by me, allowing the temperature to drop over time. Rhys didn’t have that option, which meant I’d have to keep moving or chance hurting myself. I’d known that coming into it, since most didn’t plan for a person to be within the room as the weapon finished curing.

My eyes fluttered closed, and Nyx slammed her hands on the glass, jolting them back open. “Look at me! You keep moving, Remington Aliana Silversmith. You don’t close your eyes. Understood?” she snapped, her eyes wild with worry.

“Got it,” I stammered, and immediately started moving again.

I followed her lead, dropping to the ground to do pushups, lunges, and then back up to do more jumping jacks. She kept her eyes bouncing between my armband that told her my temperature, and my eyes that grew heavy. My body fought the urge to go into shock at the extreme temperatures with the sluggish movements we made.

“What is happening?” Rhys demanded.

“It’s normal. At least when Remi makes swords,” Nyx snapped, dismissing him to focus on me. “She isn’t a bladesmith. She’s a damn silversmith. Swords are harder because they need more metal. High temperature is needed and frigid temperatures too. It just went from being 500 degrees in there to 100 below freezing.”

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