“I saw you yesterday,” she bit out. “Or did you forget about the fact you had me dragged to your bloody cave in the middle of the night?” The back of her head throbbed with pain at the memory.
Pyre waved a dismissive hand. “You left without saying goodbye,” he complained. He pouted, his lush bottom lip sticking out. “It offends me that you felt the need to sneak out, love.”
She was not his love.
“It offends me that your man clubbed me over the head like a barbarian.”
He smiled, flashing just a little fang. “Can’t help it, love. All my men dream of dragging a delectable female back to their lairs. You, on the other hand, have been very rude.” She flushed when he sat up and swung his legs over the side of her bed, then leaned back, lounging on her bed like he owned the thing, legs apart. The picture of self-indulgent nobility.
Bastard.
“Get off my bed,” she demanded, irritated that she missed his top hat and his ostentatious clothes. What was wrong with her?
He ran a hand over her coverlet. “While plain and a bit crude, I like my current spot. Now tread carefully, or I might take offense at your inhospitality.”
“Inhospitality?” Tempest muttered. She shook her head. What was she doing bickering with him in the middle of the Hound barracks? Someone could walk in at any moment. She stomped to the end of the bed, scowling at him. “What are you doing here, Pyre?” she repeated. “Your presence here could ruin everything I have been working so hard for. This is careless, even for you. What is so important that you—”
Pyre pulled an ivory card from inside his leather waistcoat and held it out to her, cutting off her sentence. She eyed it like it would bite her. He poked her in the arm with the sharp edge, and she reacted on reflex, slapping it out of his hand. It fell to the ground with a dull thump. The surface was silvered. Was it an invitation?
“Why did you do that?” the kitsune asked. “I wasn’t going to slit your throat with it.”
She glared at him. “Why. Are. You. Here?” she demanded through gritted teeth, resisting the urge to slap the man. He was on her last nerve, and all she wanted to do was brush her teeth and wash her face. She swore she could still taste the king.
Pyre eyed her, a devilish twinkle in his eye. “Is your tetchy mood something to do with the time of the month?”
He didn’t.
“Excuse me?”
His gaze narrowed on her chest. “Your breasts are bigger, and you’re prickly. Plus, your scent is sour.”
Her vision turned red, and she launched toward him. His eyes rounded as she crashed into his chest and then tumbled him back onto the bed. She straddled Pyre and pressed her dagger beneath his chin, breathing hard. He smiled at her and arched a brow, like he was amused with her antics.
“Why is it that every time a woman has a valid point, the male species finds a way to make it about the perceived weakness of the female body? Being angry at you isn’t a product of my moon time, but of your stupidity,” she growled, pressing the blade of her dagger a little harder against his neck. Pyre shifted and Tempest froze as a dangerously sharp claw prickled the soft skin under her chin. Damn shapeshifter. “Do you have any idea of the pressure I’m under right now?” she asked, ignoring the claw. “From all angles, I’m given commands and orders which I either have to obey or decide to ignore. Every choice I make has repercussions for those around me. I’m putting my life in jeopardy as well as those I love.” Traitorous heat pressed at the back of her eyes. Like hell would she cry. “And I’m getting no sleep because people like you keep dragging me off in the middle of the night. So, the least you could do, is answer my questions!”
She flinched when he removed his claw from her throat. Her breath caught in surprise when he touched her cheek so softly. The pads of his calloused fingers and the tips of his claws running along her skin caused her to shiver. What was he doing?
“Sorry,” he said, very quietly. “I’m sorry, Temp.”
Her anger drained away as quickly as it came, and she sagged against him. At least he sounded genuine—until he ruined it.
“Though,” he continued on, in a completely different tone of voice, “if your instinct is to climb all over me when you’re angry, then I can’t really be all that sorry about igniting your temper.” A slow smile curled onto his lips, and the air seemed to heat around them. “If you wanted to get me on my back, all you had to do was ask.”
Tempest snarled and rolled off him. “You’re such a pig.” She couldn’t get away from him fast enough. She hovered at the foot of the bed as Pyre sat up, rubbing his neck.
He chuckled and shook his head. “Kitsune, not pig,” he corrected. “Open the letter. You’ll get your answer.”
She glanced at the invitation where it lay abandoned on the floor. Tempest reached down to retrieve it and used her dagger to open the envelope. Her brows furrowed when she unfolded it. The card was blank. What the bloody hell?
She frowned at Pyre. “What is this?” she asked. A secret form of communication?
Pyre tsked. “So curious. I like that about you.”
Tempest rolled her eyes and frowned as he gracefully climbed to his feet on her bed and glanced out of the window. “What are you doing?”
“I’d think it was obvious?” He cracked his knuckles and rolled his neck.
“You’re leaving?” What was going on?
“You need to pack,” he said, his gaze focused on something in the distance. “We have to leave. There are so many things to do.”
She waved the invitation at him. “Tell me what this is,” she insisted. “How else am I supposed to know what it is? It’s blank.”
Her eyes rounded as his nails lengthened, and he used them to easily open the window. Too easily. They needed better locks on the windows. Pyre perched on the sill and sniffed the air in a decidedly foxlike manner. He turned slightly, cocking his head to one side as he stared down at Tempest. He had to be the most exasperating creature in the world.
“Was this all a show?” she hissed. “Just to let me know you could get to me any time you wanted?”
“You’re much too suspicious for someone so young,” he commented.
“That’s a little like the pot calling the kettle black, isn’t it?”
A slow grin spread across his face. “Bring something nice to wear. And I mean really nice, not your reluctant approximation of nice.”
Tempest gaped at him. Rude. She had excellent taste and style.
“What for?” she demanded. “Pyre, either you answer my questions or so help me—”
“Leave the city as soon as you can,” he interrupted. “I will find you soon.” Then, he leapt out the window, disappearing from sight at a speed completely impossible for a mere human to achieve.
What had just happened? She blinked slowly. Once. Twice.
“Unbelievable! He is completely impossible!” She glanced around the empty room and back to the window. Tempest had more unanswered questions now than she did before. What was this visit for?
Nine
Tempest