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Heart racing from the unexpected maneuver, suppressed amusement still curling through her, she glanced at Tallak. He sat with both hands clamped onto the steering wheel, inhumanly still but for the quickened breaths making his chest and shoulders move. Dark energy swirled around him, his face a mask of thunder as he stared straight ahead.
In the back of her mind, memories rose like specters, of a different time, a different man. The moments when Robert’s mood had shifted, when his aura had veered into aggression, she’d shift as well, mold herself into something malleable that wouldn’t be broken by sharp words, only dented. Whatever it took to endure the storm of verbal rage that would follow.
Those memories, however, seemed distant now, and with not a small amount of surprise, she realized they hadn’t informed her behavior in the here and now. Because she would never have allowed herself to teasingly provoke Robert as she’d just done with Tallak. With Robert, she’d had to walk on eggshells for fear of upsetting him because she’d known he would lash out at her for even the smallest perceived slight. Robert’s reactions to things real and imagined had always been out of proportion, and all too often, he’d laid the blame for his bruised ego at Hazel’s feet, so much so that she’d held herself under rigid control around him, lest she insult him by accident.
The way she’d let go around Tallak, the fact that she’d felt free to tease him…it spoke of a fundamental difference in him that she felt, understood, on an instinctual level. Because somehow, she knew he’d never yell at her like Robert, never slice at her with true, unvarnished malice in his words.
Even now, when he’d pulled the car over with darkness pulsing under his skin, as he sat there vibrating with choked-back anger, the violence in his power wasn’t aimed at her. She felt that deep in her bones, a knowledge she couldn’t explain. She was free to verbally spar with him without fear of the kind of retaliation that left emotional scars.
And yet, there was teasing, and there was taking things a step too far.
The way he held himself, like the hardened shell of his ire and his thunderous expression were the last, necessary bulwark between the outside world and something softer, more brittle inside him…it let all lingering amusement in her dissipate.
“I won’t tell anyone,” she said quietly.
His fingers tightened further on the steering wheel. He still wouldn’t look at her. “I don’t give a fuck what the others think.”
The others… Understanding dawned on her. That bulwark of steel-coated anger, it wasn’t in preemptive response to the judgment of the outside world. Just to hers.
What she thought of him, that mattered to Tallak.
Something in her clicked, righted itself.
She let a heartbeat pass, then she softly said, “Tallak.”
He continued staring ahead, but his head inclined ever so slightly toward her, as if he fought the impulse to face her.
“Look at me.” After a moment, she added, “Please.”
With a breath that appeared painful, he turned toward her. His gaze of amber fire met hers, his expression guarded.
“I want you to understand this,” she said, putting all the warmth and reassurance she could muster into her voice, her features, “so I’m going to say it in your language, even if it pains me.”
She waited a few seconds to let the words sink in and build up to the finale. He held her gaze, his energy a hum of dark agitation.
“I don’t give a flying fuck if you like to listen to ’90s boy bands.”
He blinked.
“I don’t give a rat’s ass,” she continued, making sure to enunciate each swear word with delicate perfection, “about what anyone else might think it says about you. I don’t fucking care about arbitrary rules of what we should like or not. I’m too old for that shit. So what if you like that music? If anything, it makes you more fun. Knowing I could ride in the car with you grooving to the Backstreet Boys makes me happy.” She paused, then added with a raised finger, “Happy as fuck.”
For a long moment, he just stared at her, the distant whoosh of passing cars the only sound. Then he slowly blinked and said, “You just cursed five times.”
“Make a note of it in your calendar.” She tilted her head. “It’s a historical event.”
One side of his mouth inched up in a cheeky half smile. The glint in his eye was her only warning. The next second, he was on her, claiming her lips in a kiss that stole her breath, his hand on her nape pulling her to him.
Her toes curled in her fancy shoes as she melted under the heat of his kiss, surrendered to the sensation of his tongue stroking hers. Her nipples beaded against the soft fabric of her dress, and she moaned into his mouth.
All too soon, he broke the kiss, sitting back in his seat with his breath coming heavily, his features sharpened by feral hunger. “Babe, don’t look at me like that. We need to stop so we can actually make it to our destination.”
“Come back here,” she heard herself murmur, dazedly wondering at the demanding siren that had replaced her prim and proper self.
“Hazel,” Tallak ground out, sounding genuinely in pain. He looked the part, too.
With a start, she realized she could crook her little finger, and he’d likely crawl over the console to her. If she asked him with desire drenching her words, he’d drop everything and drag her to him. To have that kind of power over a man…no, not a man. A demon who thrived on murder and mayhem, who sauntered through the world with a grumpy, zero-fucks attitude, except with those few who mattered to him.
And somehow, she’d become one of those few.
