TWENTY-SIX

“You know, I wanted to be a dancer when I grew up – like professionally. Fighting, protecting, being a paladin was never something I wanted to do,” he volunteered as he wandered a little aimlessly around Ivy’s room.

She scoffed, “Right!”

He smiled at her, knowing the idea was absurd to her but it was true. “Seriously. I also wanted to be a professor, a doctor, a gardener … anything other than what I was born to be.” He paused when he reached the small sitting area of the room and decided to take a seat at the table. His constant prowling was no doubt making Ivy nervous but he’d thought it best to stay on the move. Seeing her sitting on the bed and pulling all that glorious hair loose from the confines of its elastic was playing havoc on his control.

“You’re serious,” she stated, combing her fingers through her hair. “From what I’ve seen, you love being a paladin.”

“I love being Max’s paladin,” he emphasised. “But I wanted to be everything – anything – my father wasn’t. He’s a paladin, hence I loathed the thought of being one.” He watched the tiny expressions on her face, loving the small play of muscles beneath smooth, mocha skin. The slight vee between her eyebrows was the equivalent of a frown on other people.

“Daddy issues?” she guessed.

Despite the circumstances, he was startled into a genuine laugh, “That’s the understatement of the year. My father is Isaac.”

Her fingers stilled in her hair, her eyes widened, and her mouth literally dropped open. It was the most expression he had ever seen on her face. Other than when she had orgasmed, of course. And he planned on seeing that particular look of surprised wonder on her face again and again and again. He figured it was pretty bad when he only had to say a first name and people shuddered in revulsion. His father’s name and Order was synonymous with fear.

“Isaac? Potentate for the Order of Tor and for Terran? That piece of shit, murdering bastard, arsehole?!” she shouted.

He tipped an imaginary hat in her direction, “That’d be him.”

She jumped off the bed, taking her turn to pace around the room. Lark didn’t mind her agitated movements. It allowed him to appreciate the full scope of Ivy’s hair. Straight, black, and shiny as a waterfall, it fell in a flawless curtain all the way to her butt. He couldn’t wait to see her body when it was shielded only by that hair.

“By the Goddess, Lark. I had no idea. I’ve had a few run-ins with his Order over the years and –”

“You what?” he jumped up. “Are you okay? Did he ever touch you?”

She waved away his concern, “I’m fine. As if I’d let that disgusting, sadistic, pig touch me. I – shit, I’m sorry. I’m talking about your father …”

His jaw clenched, “No need to apologise. That man is a lot of things. But my father he never was.”

Ivy shook her head, causing her hair to swish tantalisingly around her body, “Well, that explains your scars. Oh, hell. I am so sorry. That was so insensitive. I’m –”

He found himself laughing for the second time in minutes. An irate, uncensored, unfiltered Ivy was highly entertaining. “It’s fine. Honest.”

She just shook her head, staring at him like she had never seen him before, “Isaac? I don’t see it at all. You are nothing like him. Honestly, if it weren’t for the fact that I know you would never lie to me, then I would say I didn’t believe you.”

He absolutely loved hearing she trusted him to speak truthfully. Maybe the past couple of weeks weren’t such a write-off after all and she really had been listening and watching him, just as he had been doing with her, “Telling me I’m nothing like him is probably the best compliment you could give me.”

“No doubt,” she muttered. “How did you get away from him?”

“The Paladin Trials,” he said, simply.

That tiny vee of hers made another appearance briefly before her exotic-shaped eyes rounded slightly, “You flunked them on purpose.”

He nodded, “Indeed I did.” The relief on her face made him chuckle again, “You thought I was an incompetent child, barely old enough to be recognised as a knight and so inept I couldn’t pass a single exam in the Trials.”

She just nodded at him, not looking sheepish or even apologetic, “That’s exactly what I thought. But then, that’s exactly what you wanted me to think … isn’t it?”

He had to hand it to her, she was damn fast. Just another thing to like about her. He leant back in his chair, feeling relaxed and comfortable now, “Yes and no. Yes, I want my father and his associates to think that. Everyone else? I don’t really care. I don’t base my self-worth on the judgement of others.” Not anymore, anyway, he added silently, “As for you – no, I didn’t want you to think that. I hated that you thought that way. But I wasn’t going to disabuse you of the notion. You seemed to need to cling to it.”

Ivy abruptly turned her face away from him but not before he saw the slash of colour high on her cheekbones, “What happened then? I don’t imagine your father would have been particularly happy about your failure.”

“You’d be right. After a rather sound tongue lashing – among other things – he finally kicked me out on my arse. He then made sure to spread the word that his son was a disgrace – no fighting skills, useless with weapons, completely dishonourable, and likely a fag as well. I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it. I was the talk of the town for a good long while.”

She waved away his last comment, “I don’t pay attention to gossip. Not after Beyden’s experience with the gossip-whores. Although, I do remember hearing all about Isaac’s son failing the potentate and paladin exams. I just never knew it was you.”

His estimation of her rose again after hearing her opinion of gossip, “Anyway, I was barely twenty-six at the time and I found myself homeless, permanently Orderless, and disgraced. It was the happiest moment of my life.”

He wondered how much more to say and then decided he wanted her to know everything about him sooner or later. He may as well keep talking while she was being receptive, “I was finally free. Free of that man, of his liege, and his miserable excuse of an Order. I was going to leave our society altogether – go live in the human world. Just forget wardens and paladins and chades even existed.”

Her perfectly arched eyebrows rose, “You’re being serious,” she stated.

“Deadly.”

“Then why didn’t you?” she asked, curiously.

He ran both hands through his hair, blowing out a breath, “Fate, luck … Ryker.”

Ivy’s eyes warmed, “Ryker, huh? For a miserable prick who claimed not to like people, he sure sounds as if he saved more than his fair share of them.”

Lark could recount dozens of true stories demonstrating Ry’s deep sense of fairness, of compassion, and just plain kindness. But he didn’t, knowing the man didn’t do it for the fame. Instead, he grinned, “He’s all bark and no bite.”

She snorted at the absurdity of that and they lapsed into a comfortable silence, both lost in their own thoughts. After a few minutes, he saw Ivy making her way over to him. He was stunned when her voice rang loud and clear with her question;

“Can I see them?”

His body stiffened in automatic denial. He didn’t need her to clarify what them was. She had already mentioned his scars once and had no doubt received an eye-full when he had been dancing that day. He hadn’t lied when he told Max he wasn’t ashamed of his scars or embarrassed about them. Though, he would be lying if he said he was completely comfortable with someone studying them. Someone he was attracted to no less and who had already expressed concerns regarding his strength.

She must have taken his silence for tacit consent because she offered him a slender hand. Not wanting to break whatever spell they were both under, he accepted it, allowing her to help him to his feet. She circled around behind him and bunched her fingers in his shirt. Her tight grip reminded him of the day he had felt her come apart in his arms and he barely managed to stifle his groan. Now was not the time for lust-filled visions.

She raised the material slowly until it gathered at the nape of his neck, the cool air brushing over the lines and marks on his back, just as he knew her eyes must be. It could have been seconds or even hours later for all he knew, when he finally felt Ivy’s soft fingers brush against his back. At first, he remained tense and unsure, not liking the fact he couldn’t see her face and gauge her reactions. But by the time Ivy had finished her slow and very thorough exploration of his scars, he had relaxed under her gentle ministrations. She hadn’t spoken and neither had he but somehow the silence wasn’t awkward or fraught with tension. Instead it was … peaceful. How he could feel at peace when a sexy woman was tracing the evidence of his miserable childhood, he didn’t know.

And then, just when he thought she was done and he couldn’t possibly like her even more, he felt the softest, warmest caress over the raised, keloid scar low on his hip. Sucking in a sharp breath, he knew that touch was her lips. She spent the next ten minutes being just as thorough with her mouth as she had been with her fingers. She left no skin unmapped and he knew if kisses really did make things better, his back would be flawless by now.

Finally, she smoothed his shirt back in place and stepped away from him, “I’m sorry,” she murmured, voice full of compassion and pain but not pity.

Ensuring his face revealed nothing of the raging combination of like and lust going on inside his body, he turned, “Hardly your fault.”

Her dark eyes were luminous, deep pools of emotion he was sure he could drown in, “I’m still sorry.”

“Thank you,” he said, feeling a connection, deep and sure, rise up between them. Clearing his throat, he broke their shiny new connection. But he wasn’t worried now – he knew they could get it back. “Well, we have another big day tomorrow. We should at least try to get a couple of hours sleep.”

“You could stay,” she suggested, peering up at him with a clear offer in her eyes.

Oh, how he wanted to do just that. But he didn’t want to break the fragile friendship they had managed to forge tonight. And he wanted far more from her than just sex. “Not tonight,” he said, softly.

Her bottom lip immediately poked out in what was an undeniable pout. She looked so adorable and so put out, he couldn’t help saying what was on his mind. Max had said to be patient and he had been. The advice had gotten him this far but it had been a long time coming. Now it was time for him to do it his way.

“Are you going to freak out when I fall in love with you?”

Her bottom lip dropped even further when her mouth fell open, “What?!” Ivy’s voice was close to a screech.

Well, I guess that answers that, he thought in amusement. “Just relax,” he soothed.

“Relax? You expect me to relax? You just told me you’re in love with me,” Ivy practically wheezed the last few words out.

“No, I said when, when I fall in love with you. Sheesh, I barely know you, Ivy,” he shook his head. The look on her face said she thought he was completely insane. Maybe he was but he felt it was only right to give her some advance warning.

“When is just like saying you are! It’s not like saying if,” she informed him.

“I guess you have me there,” he acknowledged. It was sound logic. “Well … goodnight, Ivy.”

“Goodnight? Goodnight? That’s it?”

He stopped at the door, tossing a wink over his shoulder at the pale, trembling woman, “That’s it … for now.”