Page 226 of A Vicious Love

“Yes.”

Without weapons. The thought sat between us, intimate in a way I did not know how to carry.

Jamison reached for his shirt buttons. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’ve done something noble.”

“You took your guns off.”

“I got into bed.”

“With me.”

His hands paused.

My voice had come out quieter than I meant it to. Something closer to awe, which was embarrassing because he was simply a man who had slept without a pistol under his pillow.

Except Jamison was not simply anything.

His mouth curved, but the smugness was gentler this time. “Yes, baby. With you.”

My face heated again, and I looked down at the blanket because my heart had started doing foolish things in my chest.

Then I remembered the guns.

The forest.

My father.

I looked up sharply. “You cannot go.”

“I can.”

“No, you truly cannot.”

He slid the second weapon into place. “Watch me.”

“You hate hunting.”

“I love hunting.”

My mouth opened.

He looked at me as if amused by my horror. “I hate hunting animals.” He finished buttoning his shirt with one hand. “Crows hunt people.”

I pressed my lips together. “You cannot go into the forest armed with my father.”

“Why?”

“Because my father is very irritating.”

Jamison’s brows lifted.

“And?” he prompted.

“And you are very armed.” I sat higher, hair falling over one shoulder, sleep forgotten completely. “My father speaks as if everything is a lesson. He calls things tradition when he means control. Julian will stand there translating him into business language. Adrian will look angry because that is simply his resting personality. Uncle Theo drinks before nine and pretends he can identify birds by wing sounds. It will annoy you.”