Page 57 of Reaper's Quest

He sneered.

I clenched my teeth, and my eyes burned with the sudden desire to incinerate him. Turn him into nothing more than ashes.

At least he’d destroyed the unwanted moment, because I was no longer thinking about what was going on below the belt. His or mine.

He turned away and started talking about our task, Aldine, and what we had learned, or hadn’t learned so far. I caught most of his words…I think. But gods below, my finger throbbed.

I shook my hand violently then examined the fingertip closely, searching for the source of the pain. A long, thin splinter cut deep beneath my skin.

And on the same damn hand with the soul-scraped bruise.

Crap. It hurt. Kind of a lot.

How could something so small cause so much pain?

“Stupid old shingles,” I muttered and picked at the splinter, attempting to tug it free. First with my fingers then with my teeth.

I wanted it…needed it…out, only the splinter wouldn’t budge.

“Are you even listening to me?”

I shivered and twisted my attention to Chace. “What?”

His expression morphed, and I wavered in uncertainty at what I saw. Confusion? Concern? Camouflage crankiness?

Why was he so hard to read?

I didn’t want to take the time to figure out the why or the what behind his manner. With a groan of frustration, I returned my attention to the demanding ache in my fingertip. Gripping my sore hand, I pressed my thumb firmly against my bruised palm. The newly added pressure to my already aching bruise dulled the effects of the splinter.

“Let me see.”

I snapped my head up, my gaze colliding with Chace’s. He held his hand out to mine in both request and waiting.

I hesitated with indecision, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I could hear my father’s warnings regarding the Badden family, but an unexpected feeling seized me. I didn’t want to deny Chace, and I had no idea why.

We hadn’t exactly spent the last four days bonding or growing exceptionally close over our shared experiences.

Nevertheless, I released my hand to his trust.

After a quick examination of my finger, he hummed. “Splinter from the roof tiles?”

I nodded once. “And that tiny sucker smarts something serious.”

“Hmm.” His fingers slid over my hand and glided to within centimeters of the offending wood sliver. “If we extract this intruding element, will you be able to concentrate on the conversation?”

“Of course,” I said. “I was paying attention despite the minor irritation.”

“No, you weren’t,” he countered. “You were clearly consumed by the itsy-bitsy prick.”

“You know what…” I yanked on my hand, done with his passive bullying behavior.

Only when I pulled, his grip on my hand tightened, refusing to let go.

“Let’s extract that prick, shall we?” His mouth closed over my finger, and a gasp of surprise leapt from my lips.

With a swirl of his tongue against my skin, he located the tip of the splinter and, damn my traitorous body, my core heated and my legs clenched. His nostrils flared, and his gaze narrowed, then he sucked, hard. The discomfort of the splinter vanished, and then I felt too manyotherthings. Things I shouldn’t feel while peering into Chace’s eyes.

I’d swear, our hearts beat like a pair of competing drum performances.