Page 106 of Seasons of War
Staying overnight wasn't in the plan, though. Lance would search for her if she didn’t return tonight. She'd send a message back to Krowe's estate, but she still felt his worry.
“Wear the dress I bought you,” the captain said. “We're going out for dinner.”
The backless gown hung off the closet door beside a small table with the flowers and chocolates he’d bought her. He’d strewn more gifts around the room, even jewelry she found on the pillow.
Oh, how she would love to shove it all down his throat.
Flipping her around to face him, he eased his lips against hers, and she made herself kiss him back. His hands shifted from gentle to violent in only a second, without apology or excuse.
He spoke against her temple. “Things can be this way all the time.”
The implicit threat strangled her just like his hands, so she smiled, unable to speak while he kissed her again and slid his greedy hands all over her. Every touch let her in deeper, though he thought it was the opposite. He'd soon become comfortable in his control of her, vulnerable to her attack.
Once he finally left, Miya called to report her absence to the Krowe estate and pivoted for the bed, exhausted from all the stress. But a figure caught the corner of her eye, and she looked across the room, expecting it to be her imagination, only to see Zayne Riven staring back at her.
Miya screamed and jumped backward so hard she knocked her head against the wall.
“I'm not here to hurt you. I promise.” Zayne lifted his arms, showing her his empty hands, but he looked more threatening like that, with two seals—two—raised up to her. The snakes creeping beneath his collarbone flexed from the motion, running along chiseled muscle.
Why did her life get shittier every hour of the day?
“Then what are you here for?” She inched toward the nightstand to chuck the heavy lamp at him if necessary.
“I need to talk,” he said.
What was her strategy here? Not every person made for a good mark. Last night, Miya toyed with him enough to see that he was a poor target to manipulate. He recognized the threat in her immediately. Guarded against her.
A deep scar cut beneath his black band, absent of any gold or glory. Miya noticed the faint scarring along his wrists—probably from restraints as a prisoner of war. The Rivens didn't evade combat like other elite families. They were as battle-hardened and lethal as they were politically powerful. And war was etched into Zayne's body.
This was not Captain Garrison.
Not at all.
And if that didn't kill her, it could be the key. Zayne kept his emotions closely guarded, but Miya saw his jaw flex at the sight of her neck last night. He didn't approve of Christopher's behavior. Whether he was sympathetic or just found it uncivilized, that gave Miya a place to start with him.
“You promise that's all?” She saw how he reacted to her calmness last night, so what about her fear? Would it affect him?
“I promise.” He lowered his arms. “No one knows I'm here, and we both need it to stay that way. But what I say might panic you.”
Zayne Riven telling her she may panic made her fucking panic. Her pulse throbbed in her temples. “I'll stay calm.”
“Don't run either. The hall's clear, but you saw the increased security.”
“I'm stuck here alone with you.” She didn't hide the tremble in her voice. “I get it.”
A pause, and then Zayne sighed. “I'll give you my gun. Aim here.” He tapped the center of his chest. “I'm reaching for it, but not to hurt you.”
From the moment his fingertips made contact with his weapon, Miya tracked his hand and his every move. Aiming away from her, he withdrew a silencer from his pocket and attached it. Then, holding the handle of the gun with two fingers, he placed it on the bed. Hands raised again, he backed to the far side of the room.
Miya pounced on the weapon and positioned herself closer to the door. Was this a trick?
“You know how to handle that?” He asked.
“Yes.”
“Then take your insurance. Safety off and aim at the center of my chest.”
She stared at him with the gun ready to fire, pointed exactly where he said. “Why are you letting me do this?”
